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TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


By miss BOUVET 


Sweet William . . Small 410, Illus. $1.25 

A Child of Tuscany . . “ “ 1.25 

A Little House in Pimlico “ “ 1.25 

Pierrette . . . . “ “ i.oo 

Little Marjorie’s Love Story “ “ i.oo 

Prince Tip Top: A Fairy Tale “ “ i.oo 

My Lady: A Story of Long Ago i6mo, “ 1.25 

Tales of an Old Chateau . “ “ 1.25 


A. C. McCLURG & CO., CHICAGO 


TALES OF 
AN OLD chateau 

BY 

MARGUERITE BOUVET 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

HELEN MAITLAND ARMSTRONG 



CHICAGO 

a. C. McCLURG and CO. 

1899 


TWO COPIES received. 

Library of Congref% 
Office of the 

N0V9 318OP 

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Copyright 

By a. C. McCLURG & CO. 
A. D. 1899 


All rights reserved. 

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TO 

MY MOTHER 



TO MY YOUNG READERS 


It may interest you to know, that the 
themes of nearly all of the following tales 
are incidents which really occurred in 
France during the period of the great 
Revolution. The “ Golden Amulet,” 
which in reality was a small Swiss time- 
piece, still in our possession, was given 
to my maternal great-grandfather, then 
an officer in the King’s Guards, by a 
lady of noble birth, in reward for an 
act of valor achieved by him in time 
of peril. It was truly the means of saving 
his life on one occasion, just as related ; 
although the love part of the story belongs 
to the realm of fiction. The remembrance 
of my own delight in the recital of these 
stories of the great war has led me to write 


them for you, just as I remember to have 
heard them in my childhood ; only soft- 
ening here and there with a touch of 
romance the too shocking realities of 
history. 

MARGUERITE BOUVET. 

October, 1899. 



SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


GRAND’MAMAN TELLS HER 


LAST STORY 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

In the Little Chapel .... Frontispiece 
She Drew the Golden Treasure from 

BETWEEN THE FOLDS OF HER LaCES . 33 

In the Little Chapel of the Old 

Chateau 55 

“My Little One, Hast Thou Forgot- 
ten Me?” 79 

An Officer of the Government ... 91 

“Wilt Thou not Share Our Sport?” 117 

Some Fanciful Wreathing of Blossoms 139 

Two Roses Bloomed Side by Side . . 153 

Madeleine 175 

Fallen into a Reverie 185 

A Last Farewell 229 

Grand ’maman was Sleeping .... 233 





The Golden Amulet 



. -St 






The Golden Amulet 



RAW near to the hearth, 
my little ones, for the 
night is bleak without, 
and the dismal wind 
moans like a restless 
ghost as it enters unseen at the chinks 
and crevices, rattling the window- 
panes in their casements, and whisking 
flurries of snow down the chimney. 
See how it makes the flames to dance 
and crackle and sport in mad delight 
at the turmoil that frets the peace of 
night ; for wind and fire are fairly 
good comrades, and love to battle 
together against the other elements of 
the storm. They mind me of fierce 
warriors reveling in the very sound 
17 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


and smell of conflict. In truth, the 
wild tumult of the night recalls scenes 
of those days of mighty terror upon 
which my old memory can never cease 
to dwell. 

‘‘Come, Delphine, my pretty one, 
sit thee close, and rest thy head upon 
my knee, that I may be minded of the 
sunshine as the fire’s light falls upon 
thy bright locks. And thou, Victor, 
my lad, beware of the sparks that fly, 
lest one should strike thee in thy 
merry black eye; and I will tell you a 
tale of olden days to while away the 
gloom of the twilight until bedtime.” 

‘‘Oh! a story of the great wars, 
grand’maman, of noble battles and 
fierce conflicts!” 

‘‘Nay, nay, Victor, not of the ter- 
rible fighting, nor of the killing of 
brave soldiers, which makes me trem- 
ble and weep; but pray, madame, tell 
us the story of Captain Joli-Coeur and 

i8 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


the noble lady, which you promised us 
yestereve.’ ' 

“Ah, my little maid, I see thou hast 
already a love for romantic things. 
But thou must know, sweetheart, that 
even in tales of love tears must ever 
be mingled with smiles; at least thus 
it hath proved in thy grandam’s time 
of loving.” 

“Oh! Delphine, thou chicken! 
Verily thou wouldst tremble at thine 
own shadow.” 

“How now, my son? Shall I not 
heed thy sister’s wish rather than 
thine? Hast thou forgotten that a 
true chevalier must set aside his own 
desire for that of a maiden? Chide 
not thy little sister for a too tender 
heart.” 

“But, madame, why must maidens 
ever have love and such sweet stuff to 
please them?”' 

Grand’maman smiled — her rare, 
^9 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


sweet, radiant smile, the one lasting 
charm of her youthful beauty which 
had remained undimmed through four- 
score years of an eventful life. 

“Thou wilt some day have cause to 
change thy mind concerning such mat- 
ters, my little man, and thou wilt come 
to look with more favor upon them 
when thou hast learned that love and 
warfare go hand in hand, and that 
the one is in nowise belittled by the 
other.” 

“Thou art a heartless lad, Victor, to 
take delight in the recital of cruel 
deeds.” 

“Nay, my Fifine, neither is it un- 
seemly for thy brother to dote upon 
stories of warfare rather than those 
pertaining to what he calls ^ sweet 
stuff.’ For he is a lad, and the son 
of generations of brave men-at-arms. 
Moreover, he is thine elder by two 
years, and fast nearing the age when 


20 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


lads love to think and dream of valiant 
deeds. Let me think; how old art 
thou now, my Victor?” 

“Nine years, madame, this past 
Saint Michel.” 

“Ah, yes; I am wont to forget, now 
that the years are standing still for me. 
Were it not for thy sweet face, my 
Delphine, expanding before me day by 
day like the heart of a flower, and thy 
sturdy limbs, Victor, springing up 
straight and tall like a young oak-tree, 
I might, perforce, think myself young 
again in dwelling upon those far-off 
days of the past. So apt is Father 
Time at deceiving the old. 

“Throw another log upon the fire, 
my son, that we may have cheer 
within, even though the tempest rages 
without; and I will seek in the cor- 
ners of my old memory for a tale 
wherewith to delight your childish 
fancy.” 


21 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


The boy obeyed, and then seated 
himself upon a low stool on the other 
side of grand’maman’s chair, and said, 
with a look of manly resignation : ‘‘Let 
it be as thou wilt, little sister; we 
shall have a tale to suit thy 'tender 
pigeon-heart.” 

“Now art thou truly a naughty 
brother to twit me thus and point me 
out a coward,” rejoined the little maid 
with a feint of pouting, and whisking 
one of her long curls across her broth- 
er’s cheek. 

“Peace, sweethearts; a moment 
more and it will be candle hour, and 
you will have no story.” 

The two children fell into their 
places at grand’maman’s knee, and 
both eager young faces turned at once 
to hers as she sat so straight and cere- 
monious in her high-backed chair, the 
firelight playing upon her tranquil 
features, as her eyes searched in the 


22 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


red coals for some spark to kindle those 
distant memories of her youth. 

“Of Captain Joli-Coeur, didst thou 
say, sweet one? Ah, well, that is ever 
a pleasing theme to dwell upon. Had 
there but been more such noblemen as 
he in the days of which I speak, when 
our poor France so sorely needed 
them, we had been spared many an 
evil day and many an evil memory, 
mayhap. 

“I would have you bear in mind, my 
loves, that Captain Joli-Coeur — who 
was none other than your own grand- 
father in his youth, mark you — was 
one of the bravest and noblest soldiers 
that ever wielded sword for king or 
country. His was a heart of gold ; and 
the very bread of his soul was honor. 

“Thou canst not too early learn to 
follow in the footsteps of so gallant a 
warrior as was thy grandparent, my 
Victor, and therefore would I not 


23 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


chide thee for thy boy’s delight in 
tales of glorious warfare; for every 
man in France is born a soldier, and 
lads are aye men in their hearts. But 
see to it, when thou art grown strong 
to raise thy sword for thy country, 
that thou art surely on the side of 
right, as were all thy noble kinsmen 
before thee. 

“Thus much have I spoken of the • 
youthful captain’s bravery; but you 
must know too, my loves, that besides 
possessing a wondrously valorous spirit, 
he was of such comely grace that his 
comrades had dubbed him Joli-Coeur — 
a name which is given to one of win- 
ning countenance and courtly mien. 

In truth, there was not another officer 
in all the king’s army, nor even in the 
royal guards, that could have matched 
him in stature and soldierly bearing. 
Well do I remember his face, though 
full half a century has lapsed since I 

24 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


last looked upon it — so full of strength 
and manly courage, and yet almost of 
woman’s fairness, though haply that 
was because of his youth. His eyes 
and locks were like the midnight, and 
his cheeks were the color of new-born 
roses. The lines about his mouth 
were stern, save when he smiled, and 
then such warmth of life and beauty 
o’erspread his features! It was like 
the flush of the sun’s farewell in the 
sky at eventide. ’Twas his smile more 
than all else that made folk love him ; 
for it would melt the very heart of one 
on whom it rested, as an April sunbeam 
dispels the last snowflake of winter. 
But perhaps this may have been be- 
cause he had just then learned the 
sweet lesson of loving, and his whole 
being seemed to reflect the sunlight 
that was in his soul. 

‘‘For even a gallant officer, my 
Victor, is like to be thus beset, if he 


25 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


but carry a susceptible heart beneath 
his military doublet. Young warriors 
cannot be forever feeding upon deeds 
of war, even the bravest. They must, 
perforce, lose their heart now and 
then, as they lose a spur. Even in 
those dire days so fraught with dark 
deeds and evil thoughts, love still 
reigned, here and there, hidden in 
some youthful breasts; and hearts still 
throbbed at the magic of its unseen 
touch; and over all the great turmoil 
and seething and struggling of restless 
spirits, it still sought to shed its holy, 
healing balm ! 

“It was upon a bleak night in the 
midwinter preceding that year of great 
troubles. I remember that for the first 
time in many winters all the little 
streams round about our province were 
frozen over, and that the fields never 
put off their mantle of white frost; 
icicles hung down from every hedge and 
26 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


tree-top, from eaves and turrets. It 
seemed as if the very heart of nature 
were congealed, even as were our own 
hearts at the evil tidings that soon 
befell. 

“The young people of monsieur le 
marquis’s family were gathered around 
the big hearth of the chateau, roasting 
the large chestnuts from our forests, 
and making merry, as they always did 
on a winter’s night to outwit the bleak- 
ness of the weather. The young 
Sieur de Seyssel (who was not yet in 
the service, mark you, by reason of his 
lack of years), and his cousin thrice 
removed, the demoiselle Hortense, sat 
apart side by side in sweet converse; 
for they had been love-making I know 
not how long, but I dare say ever since 
they had both reached the age when 
young folk dwell much upon these 
things. They had been reared to- 
gether, played together when children 
27 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


as brother and sister, and later learned 
to love as youth and maid. You see, 
my dears, the young captain had learned 
that lesson long ere he had had his first 
taste of warfare. And I doubt me if 
he was not a better warrior for having 
been so true a lover. 

‘‘There was scarcely a time when he 
might not have been seen at the 
maiden’s side under the balcony of 
the old chateau or promenading arm in 
arm with her through its parks and 
gardens discoursing upon sweeter mat- 
ters, I do assure you, than those per- 
taining to gunpowder. And she, 
always seeming to know of his coming 
by some strange intuition which lovers 
have, would watch and wait for him 
the live-long morning, peering through 
the vine of purple eglantine that still 
covers the old portico, and would run 
out to greet him with a smile, as soon as 
his tall, straight figure turned into the 
28 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


pebble-path. Folk were wont to say 
that she was grown marvelous fair in 
her maidenhood, slender as a lily-stem, 
and that her eyes were of a mystic hue, 
wanton as the sea when o’erhung with 
changing clouds, and that her hair was 
as a crown of spun gold. But I, for 
one, did never believe it, and wondered 
much, secretly, at the handsome young 
nobleman’s fondness for her. 

“However that may have been, that 
night, and in this very hall, which has 
ever been the favorite gathering-place 
of the chateau on a wintry evening, 
because being well to the south and 
protected, it is shielded from the fierce 
winds that blow, the two had been 
chaffing, as lovers will in jest, about a 
certain trinket which hung by a gold 
chain upon the maiden’s breast. He 
had never seen her with it before, and 
lover-like he grew curious to learn how 
she came by it. 


29 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“It was of passing value, wrought of 
pure gold, and large around as a 
crown-piece, with one bright jewel in 
the center that sparkled and twinkled 
enough to make one blink. You have 
seen it often, my loves, in grand’- 
maman’s casket, and questioned me 
thereupon. It had been a treasure in 
the family chest for generations past ; 
for, aside from possessing great value 
as a jewel, it was believed to hold some 
secret power, some wondrous charm. 

“Hortense had that evening begged 
it of her nurse, taking a fancy to be- 
deck herself with it; and the woman, 
who had made a spoiled child of her in 
all things, and would have sought to 
give her the very moon if she had so 
desired, had after much teasing and 
coaxing yielded to her notion. When 
she appeared with the precious thing 
sparkling at her throat, the young mar- 
quis marveled, for being but a damsel. 


30 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


she had never worn a jeweled orna- 
ment. 

** ^Thou canst at least tell me 
whether any one gave it thee, and if so, 
who?’ he pleaded. 

“ ‘Now, wherefore should I tell 
thee?’ she asked, eyeing him rogu- 
ishly from under her long lashes. 

“ ‘Because I would fain know the 
coxcomb that dared to vie with me in 
giving thee pleasure, that I might train 
him to more discretion. Verily, I be- 
lieve thou prizest the worthless thing 
more than the stream of pearls I had 
of my mother and gave thee on thy 
feast-day, or the circlet on thy finger 
which is the symbol of our love.’ 

“ ‘Nay, nay, call it not worthless,’ 
said she, laughing and evading his 
question. ‘See, it is made of purest 
gold, and its jewel is rich and spark- 
ling like the ruby wine that men 
quaff!’ And she drew it from between 

31 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


the folds of her laces, and held it aloft, 
coyly. 

“ ‘But, sweet, ’tis not the money 
value of a thing that makes its worth, 
hence this should have none in thine 
eyes since ’twas not I that gave it 
thee.’ 

“ ‘How well a little jealousy sits 
upon my handsome cavalier! By my 
faith, I have a mind to tell thee I prize 
it above all other things, and that I 
would not part with it at the command 
of the king, only to see thy look; ’tis 
so flattering to my vanity.’ 

“He caught her white hand that lay 
close to his on the dark cushion and 
bore it to his lips, saying softly: 

“ ‘Sweetheart, gladly would I flatter 
thy vanity in jest, did I not think it 
worth doing in good earnest. Tell 
me, who gave thee this trinket?’ 

“She looked up into his face, which 
was bent low to meet hers, and said, 


32 



SHE DREW THE GOLDEN TREASURE FROM 
BETWEEN THE FOLDS OF HER LACES 




THE GOLDEN AMULET 


‘Must thou truly know?’ And he said 
‘Yes, I am curious.’ Then she whis- 
pered softly in his ear, ‘No one.’ 

“ ‘Then why dost thou prize it, and 
wear it next thy heart, and say thou 
wilt not part with it?’ She hid her 
face on his dark doublet and whispered : 
‘Pray, ask me not. It is but a foolish 
fancy, and thou wouldst laugh at me 
for a silly wench if I gave thee the true 
reason.’ 

“ ‘Now dost thou wish to plague 
me, Hortense, and to pull at my heart 
strings with doubts and misgivings, 
that they may play thee a prettier tune. 
By heaven, I will not heed a word of 
it, so strong am I in my own conceit.’ 

“Then he laid his cheek against her 
sunlit locks resting on his breast, and 
her eyes sought his in mingled fond- 
ness and merriment. 

“She was as happy as the morning 
lark then, never having known aught 


35 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


of sorrow to cloud the brightness of 
her life, being too young to compre- 
hend the threatening dangers of the 
great revolution that was astir, and 
having no other thought in mind than 
her love, nor ever dreaming that aught 
could come betwixt her and her para- 
dise to darken it. 

‘‘Now, on that very night it was, 
that news of a terrible thing reached 
our province; a fearful thing which 
had happened in the great city and 
gripped people’s hearts and made them 
to stand still with terror, as they heark- 
ened. That maddened mob of revolu- 
tionists had done their worst indeed, 
and there was naught else to do but 
every loyal and faithful subject, be he 
lord or peasant, must ride forth to war 
to avenge the unholy deed. A mes- 
senger dashed through the startled 
village with steed foaming at the 
mouth, and halted at the chateau 
36 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


gates, bearing the sad intelligence. He 
brought papers which summoned the 
young marquis to set out ere daybreak 
in order to join a rising army of Royal- 
ists in the east. For every man was 
needed at that hour to uphold the 
honor of France. 

‘‘All in a moment the great room, 
with its chorus of young voices and 
peals of merry laughter, was hushed, 
so that a very feather might have been 
heard floating upon the air. Every 
face was turned to marble whiteness, 
and every eye sought the young lord’s 
as he hastily took the papers and 
glanced through them, breathing 
fitfully. They had all gathered about 
him in alarm, for his face was white 
and stern. When he told them what 
had come to pass, and that he must at 
once go forth to war, a cry went up 
from every lip, and his old father fell 
swooning in his chair. 

37 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“But Hortense uttered no word or 
sound, and her face was like a white 
image. Her heart’s blood seemed 
frozen, and all the light was gone from 
her eyes. The papers dropped from 
the hands of the young marquis, and 
straightway he went to her, and took 
her in his arms. For his first thought 
was of her grief. 

“ ‘Love, love, it were easier to die 
than to see that stricken look on thy 
dear face !’ She trembled at the sound 
of his voice, and gazed at him like one 
dreaming. Then after a little her lips 
moved as she asked, ‘How canst thou 
save the king, now that they have killed 
him?’ 

“ ‘Not the king, darling, but our 
country’s honor, which, next to thee, 
is dearer than life itself,’ he said. 

“ ‘And must thou truly go upon the 
battlefield?’ she asked with quivering 
lips, ‘Ah, must thou go from me?’ 

38 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


“And he said, ‘It is the duty of 
every nobleman.’ 

“Then she fell upon her knees and 
clasped her white hands to heaven 
without a cry, without a tear, with 
only that look of mute agony that had 
transformed her of a sudden from a 
happy, mirthful child into a stricken 
woman. He sought to comfort her 
with tender words and hopeful prom- 
ises, saying that God would not part 
them now forever, having taught them 
so to love each other. But she made 
no response, seeming to hear his words 
without heeding them. 

“The whole chateau was in a fearful 
state of agitation. The old marquis 
was a broken man ever thereafter. 
People met and clasped each other 
with frightened faces, and servants ran 
hither and thither in confusion,, not 
knowing what was to become of them 
and their good masters with the whole 
39 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


land of France thrown into the hands 
of wicked, cruel men. Ah, me! it was 
a fearful time. 

“All the rest of that night, as the 
young seigneur went about making 
ready for his departure, Hortense fol- 
lowed him close, watching his every 
look and motion with that same dumb, 
wondering grief ; holding him with her 
eyes as one holds a fleeting vision that 
every breath bears farther and farther 
away. Ever and anon, he would turn 
and clasp her to his heart, and mur- 
mur, ‘Sweetheart, wilt thou not smile 
once more upon thy lover, that he may 
bear away the memory of thy look to 
cheer him?’ But the smile she would 
fain have given him in response froze 
upon her lips. They sought to lead her 
away that she might go and seek repose 
ere the hour of parting came, but she 
would not, and only clung to him with 
tearless eyes. 


40 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


‘ ‘ At length the dread hour was come ; 
the impatient tramp of his steed was 
heard outside the chateau walls, and the 
young warrior stood upon the portico 
whither the maiden had followed him 
for a last farewell. She was still linger- 
ing in his embrace when suddenly she 
tore from her bosom the golden trinket 
about which she had jested, and placed 
it in his hand. ‘My beloved,’ she whis- 
pered, ‘take this token and wear it 
next thy heart at all times for my sake. 
It and my prayers will keep thee from 
harm’s way!’ And immediately a 
smile of hope broke o’er her saddened 
face, flooding it with light, as when 
the sun bursts out upon a rain-beaten 
valley. 

“The next moment he was gone, 
gone from her out into the cold and 
darkness of the night, with tears trem- 
bling upon his lashes, and a leaden 
weight upon his heart ; while she re- 

41 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


mained upon the stones until they 
sought her there and found her weep- 
ing.” 

Grand’maman paused. The quiet 
of the great hall was broken only by 
the fall of the glowing embers in the 
chimney-hollow as their paling light 
fell upon the little group about the 
hearth. The two children were silent, 
for grand’maman’s thoughts were far 
away, and for the moment she was 
young again, living through the scenes 
which half a century could not efface 
from her memory. 

“On he sped into the night amid 
the cold and the blast. The roads 
were solitary; the sighing of the night 
wind through the ice-laden pines, and 
the dull drum-beat of his horse’s hoofs 
were the only sounds he heard for many 
a league. 

“If I were to recount to you, my 
loves, all the dangers which the young 


42 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


captain braved during that long jour- 
ney, the days he spent hidden in secret 
places, his marvelous escapes from cap- 
ture — for it was perilous journeying in 
those times under the king’s colors, 
even if one traveled with swift horse 
and stout weapon ; for men never knew 
when encountering one another whether 
’twas friend or foe — I say, if I were to 
tell you all that your noble kinsman 
braved, I fear me we should not have 
done till morning light, and your 
young ears would be weary of my 
doleful tale.” 

“Nay, nay. Say on, grand ’maman; 
we love to listen. Do we not, Del- 
phine?” • 

“I should like to hear of the poor 
lady, and whether the token did truly 
save her lover from harm.” 

“Anon, anon, my loves, you shall 
hear what did the golden amulet 
for the safety of the young marquis. 


43 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


He carried the precious thing ever with 
him, and cherished it for love of her 
that gave it more than for any virtue 
it might itself possess; for men are not 
wont to heed pretty superstitions as 
women do. 

*‘Well, the days wore on, and winter 
melted into spring, and there were bit- 
ter conflicts betwixt Jacobins and Roy- 
alists; for men’s fury waxed hotter 
even than the burning summer sun. Our 
gallant army of nobles and peasants had 
fought well, but they had lost heavily 
and suffered much, and there were 
times indeed when even the bravest 
among them lost heart. One evening 
it chanced that the young captain had 
sauntered beyond his tent, for his 
thoughts were so full of care that he 
found no rest, nor his eyelids any 
sleep. 

“The night was peaceful, and the 
rising moon shed its soft glamour over 


44 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


the vast plains beyond, flecked with 
deep shadows here and there where 
clumps of trees or broken hedgerows 
stood out against the moonlight. A 
silvery stream ran its tortuous way in 
the heart of the valley, and away on 
the crown of the opposite hill lay a 
dark mass of indistinguishable objects. 
Joli-Coeur well knew what these were 
as he gazed at the far-off spot. For 
it was the eve of a great battle, and 
yonder was the enemy’s camp. But 
he was not then thinking of the mor- 
row’s battle, nor of the dangers and per- 
plexities of war. Under the soothing 
influence of the still night, his thoughts 
had wandered back to the old chateau 
where he had left his heart, and the 
image of the one he loved rose before 
him, not sad and weeping as she had 
been on that last night, but smiling 
and hopeful, as she looked at the 
moment of parting. It seemed as if her 
45 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


very spirit now floated near him, and he 
could hear her voice comforting him. 
For there are times, they say, when 
loving souls do greet each other in the 
quiet solitude of night, and hold 
sweet communion, even though many 
leagues divide them. Steeped in the 
gentle reverie, forgetting all the anx- 
ieties and discouragements that had 
grieved his spirit, he wandered on and 
on taking no heed of the way of his 
footsteps, till he had crossed the little 
stream, when suddenly he was brought 
back to the reality of the scenes around 
him by the sound of a voice close 
upon him crying. Halt! A hand was 
laid heavily on his shoulder, and he 
turned so that the moonlight fell full 
upon hi^ face. A sentinel confronted 
him. 

“ ‘Great heavens! what art thou 
doing here?’ cried the man in a hoarse 
whisper. His face was in the shadow, 

46 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


and Joli-Coeur caught not sight of his 
features. 

‘In faith, I know not,’ responded 
he. ‘My mind was oppressed, and I 
sought the quiet of night. What is it? 
Has aught happened?’ 

“ ‘Not yet; but it is well for thee 
that I am on guard to-night, for thou 
hast trespassed into our camp, and I 
am thine enemy. Look! dost thou 
not know me?’ and he turned his face 
to the light. 

“Joli-Coeur uttered an exclamation 
of surprise. 

“‘What! Beaulieu! My dear 
vicomte.’ 

“ ‘I no longer bear that title.’ The 
two men gazed at each other in silence 
an instant. Then said the young mar- 
quis reproachfully: 

“ ‘Thou, a nobleman, and a sentinel 
in the Jacobin camp!’ 

“ ‘There is neither rank nor nobility 
47 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


in the army of the republic, save that 
which a man makes for himself with 
honor and valor,’ returned the sol- 
dier. 

“ ‘Beaulieu, hast thou truly turned 
against thy king and country — thou?’ 

“ ‘Say not against my country, but 
rather for it's liberty, which is the most 
sacred right of man.’ 

“ ‘Liberty, forsooth! A precious lib- 
erty is yours — baptized with the blood 
of the innocent,’ rejoined the young 
marquis, hotly. 

“ ‘Let us not dwell again upon these 
differences, since we have each chosen 
according to his conscience. But let 
us stand as friends through this brief 
meeting, for to-morrow we must meet 
as enemies,’ and he held out his hand, 
which the other grasped, saying, ‘Thou 
art right, comrade; though my spirit 
hath condemned thy choice, my heart 
hath not ceased to love thee.’ 

48 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


“They had, in truth, been friends, 
and loved each other as brothers, and 
played at being warriors in their boy- 
hood, little dreaming that the day 
would come when each would fight in 
earnest in an opposite cause. They 
were wont to dispute hotly together 
upon certain matters of government 
as they grew older; the vicomte, 
being of a rash and turbulent mind, 
fancied the new ideas of liberty, while 
the marquis, a nobleman in heart and 
mind and lineage, could not have been 
shaken from his stanch principles of 
loyalty by all the revolutions in the 
world. Beaulieu had left his father’s 
home, which adjoined the lands of 
Seyssel, a year or more past, but no 
one ever knew that he had gone into 
the ranks, not even Joli-Coeur, the 
companion of his youth. 

“ ‘And thou sayest thou wert only 
sauntering about to ease thy mind?’ 


49 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


said the sentinel, eyeing his friend 
keenly. 

“ ‘I swear by yonder heavens, I had 
no other motive. ’ 

“ ^Thou must, indeed, have carried 
a mighty burden of thought, to let it 
lead thee unaware into such danger- 
ous precincts as these, at dead of 
night.’ 

“ ^ Truly, I did forget myself. My 
thoughts were with one beside whom 
all dangers and all dread vanish.’ 

‘Ah, yes; I remember. If thou 
wert any other, Joli-Coeur, and I did 
not know thee to be the soul of truth 
and honor, it would be my duty not to 
believe thee, but to make thee my 
prisoner.’ 

“ ‘Dost thou think I would profit by 
this moment of confidence to deceive 
thee?’ said the marquis. 

“ ‘Nay, nay, not thou, I know,’ 
returned the sentinel. But his hand 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


was still on the young nobleman’s 
shoulder. For he knew he was doing 
a hazardous thing in thus freeing an 
enemy. 

“ ‘Search me, if thou wouldst ap- 
pease thy conscience,’ said Joli-Coeur, 
smiling and throwing open his doub- 
let. ‘As I stand here before thee, I 
have had naught in my mind but 
thoughts of love, and carry nothing in 
my belt but this missive,’ and he drew 
a letter from his pocket, which the 
other glanced at, and returned imme- 
diately, blushing for his glimpse into 
a secret confidence. 

“ ‘It is well. And now haste thee 
beyond the reach of my authority, lest 
any one seeing thee crossing the lines 
should think I had been sleeping.’ 

“But as they held each other’s hand 
once more ere turning away, the mar- 
quis said, ‘Now, since thou hast dealt 
with me as friend instead of foe, one 


51 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


more boon will I ask of thee in friend- 
ship’s name.’ 

“ ‘Thou knowest I will do all thou 
mayest ask,’ the vicomte said. 

“ ‘It may be but a dark fancy, but 
ne’er before hath my mind presaged me 
such gloom on the eve of battle. I 
have fought the enemy, and stood face 
to face with death, and ne’er till now 
have my thoughts dwelt upon the cer- 
tainty of it.’ 

“ ‘Thou art but overwrought with 
fatigue.’ 

“ ‘Mayhap, but however that be, 
give me thy promise that should I fall 
to-morrow upon the field, and thou 
be left, thou wilt seek me out, and 
take from within my belt a little golden 
token she gave me in farewell, and 
treasure it until such time as thou canst 
place it again in her hand, and say to 
her I parted from it only in death.’ 

“Now, ere the morrow’s sun had 


52 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


risen atop the hills to view the fright- 
ful scene in the valley below, the din of 
battle resounded on the plains. A sea 
of human beings was seething and 
surging beneath something worse than 
the scorching summer heat. There, in 
the face of all the glory of that sum- 
mer morn, men were hurling death at 
one another with savage fury. 

“From early dawn till set of sun the 
cannon roared as if they would rend 
the surrounding hills, and men’s blood 
flowed and dyed the pure mountain 
streams a ghastly hue. 

“Through all the hours of that day, 
in the hottest of the fight, amid the 
greatest peril. Captain Joli-Coeur was 
seen cheering his comrades to courage 
and to victory. Thrice was his steed 
shot under him, and thrice did he 
wrest the remaining shreds of the 
white flag from the hands of the 
enemy; And lo ! when the thunder- 


53 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


roar of the artillery had ceased at last, 
and the hard-fought battle was lost and 
all the survivors had fled, the brave 
young warrior lay upon the battlefield 
among the dead, his face turned to 
heaven, and a bullet through his 
body. 

“At that hour Hortense was on her 
knees far away in the little chapel of 
the old chateau, weeping and praying 
for the safety of her loved one. 

“Alack, alack, my darlings! I would 
fain have done with this dismal portion 
of my narrative, for the recital of such 
scenes is ever a grievous thing to ten- 
der hearts, and I had promised you 
only the fairer side of the story. Yet 
must we pass through the gloom of 
night ere we may come to the bright- 
ness of dawn. 

“Some hours after sunset, when 
Beaulieu had learned that Captain Joli- 
Coeur was fallen in battle, he sought 
54 




THE GOLDEN AMULET 


him, sorrowing, among the bodies that 
lay strewn upon the blood-trodden 
field. He came upon him at last, 
lying on a grassy hill-slope, his eyes 
half-closed, and his lips parted even as 
when he slept. 

‘‘Then did the young vicomte kneel 
down beside his fallen brother, and 
stooping, slip his hand within his belt 
in search of the little treasure that 
had been entrusted to him. As he 
did so, his hand rested for a second on 
the young captain’s heart. His own 
leaped at the touch. Was it only the 
echo of his own strong, living pulse, 
throbbing at his fingers’ ends? He 
brought his head closer and listened 
breathlessly, and lo ! he heard the faint- 
est flutter of a heart-beat. 

‘ ‘ Quick as a flash the soldier snatched 
a flagon from his side and moistened 
the pallid lips; then with his strong 
young arms he raised his friend and 
57 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


bore him away. Through the long 
hours of the night he watched and 
cared for him, watched and waited till 
the faint spark of life had been rekin- 
dled. 

“Ah, my loves, I would that you 
might know what a noble li/e was thus 
saved, the tenderest and the bravest 
God’s light ever shone upon! There- 
fore have I guarded the golden amu- 
let and cherished it these many, many 
years as the most precious of all treas- 
ures.” 

“And did he live long after, grand’- 
maman, to fight gloriously in other 
battles?” 

“Aye, aye, my son.” 

“And did he return to the poor lady 
and make her happy at last?” 

“Forsooth, my dainty one; how 
else should I be here to tell you this 
tale, or you to listen?” 

“Oh, grand’maman! were you the 

58 


THE GOLDEN AMULET 


lady in the story?” cried both children 
in pretty wonderment. 

And a smile of acquiescence broke 
over grand ’maman’s face and illumined 
it with a radiance that was like the last 
glory of a departing day! 


59 



Saint Genevieve’s Well 



Saint Genevieve’s Well 

U remember, my 
loves, that I have 
told you how the 
well of Saint Gene- 
vieve stands to this 
day in a deep- 
wooded glen just 
beyond the broad 
meadow outlying 
the little town of 
Belaise, itself the brightest spot in all 
the smiling valley of the Saone, as it 
nestles under the shadow of the tall 
Juras. How long the old well had 
been there, reflecting ixi its clear, cool 
depths the blueness of the summer 
heavens, no one in the village knew; 
63 



TALES dF AN OLD CHATEAU 


how long the little battered white statue 
of its patron saint had looked down 
from its shrine above to protect and 
bless it, there was not one inhabitant 
old enough to remember. Yet through 
all those years the spring had never 
once failed to yield its wealth of pure, 
sparkling waters, which it drew from 
the neighboring mountain streams. 

“For many generations it had been 
part of the estate of the good seigneurs 
of Belaise, and therefore the property 
of the villagers. For in Belaise the 
people belonged to the lords, and the 
lords to the people. Indeed, they 
fancied they could not have lived with- 
out a seigneur at the old chateau, a 
good marquis to care for them and 
supply them with labor wherewith to 
earn their livelihood when they were 
young, and to protect and save them 
from want when they had grown too 
old to work in his service. 

64 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


^^But there came a day — in those 
times when everything in France was 
changed — when the old Marquis de 
Belaise, whom his faithful peasants had 
long served and revered, broke his 
heart over the ghastly deeds of the 
Revolution, and died, and when his 
son, a beautiful youth of scarce twenty 
summers, had gone off to the dreaded 
wars and staked his young life to help 
to save the last remnant of our poor 
nobility. He was but a lad when he 
left the old chateau, a mere boy with 
smooth, almost childish features and 
softly curling ringlets and lips that 
were ever smiling, though heaven 
knows there was little enough to make 
one smile in those tearful days, save, 
perchance, that in youth the heart is 
buoyant and hopeful, so that even the 
dark, threatening shadows of reality 
vanish in its presence. 

“Many days and weeks and then 

65 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


months had passed, and still no word 
came to the good village folk concern- 
ing the young lord, nor did they learn 
how he had fared or what turn the 
great tide of human affairs was taking. 
For Belaise was but a small, seques- 
tered village, so quiet and so aloof from 
the rest of the world that only rumors 
of the great troubles had reached it as 
yet, to set the minds of the more sober 
ones busy with wondering what might 
be the cause and reason of it all. They 
marveled and talked much of the mat- 
ter: the men as they met over their 
cups through the day, and the women 
as they sat at their knitting upon their 
doorsteps, or as they gathered round 
the old well at sundown to fill their 
urns for the night. It was here they 
loved to come and gossip among them- 
selves when the day’s work was done, 
while their children romped about them 
upon the meadow grass or played at 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


hide-and-seek among the hedges, until 
darkness began to droop over the dis- 
tant hills. And it was here that every 
evening in the falling twilight they 
knelt around the shrine of their patron 
saint, to offer up a prayer out of their 
simple hearts for the safe return of 
their young master when the cruel 
wars were over. But thrice did the 
moss on the gray stones of the old well 
turn with the white frost, and thrice 
did the wild ivy round its base change 
its leaves, and still no tidings came of 
their lord. 

^‘Now, among the faithful peasants 
who came each night to join in prayer, 
there were two who always remained 
at the well long after the others had 
filled their jugs and departed home- 
ward. These were old Nicholas and 
his little grandson Claude. Nicholas 
was a tall, white-haired old man, who 
had labored fourscore years in that 
67 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


quiet corner of the world, and reaped 
but little in his old age. He had 
known sorrows and losses and bitter 
griefs, yet he had remained unshaken 
by the great wave of human passions 
that had set the whole world trembling. 
Peaceful and kindly of nature, he still 
found the world a goodly place to be 
in, so long as little Claude was with 
him to brighten his old age. They 
loved each other tenderly, the old man 
and the little child, and were the best 
of companions, although full three- 
quarters of a century divided them. 
They would sit together on the broken 
stone-bench under a tall beech-tree 
that stretched its silvery branches far 
over the well ; and they would gaze 
wistfully at the gray chateau, not half 
a league away, with its high-pitched 
roof and little corner turrets, its doors 
and casements barred, and its paths 
and terraces choked with tangled 
68 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


grasses, looking so silent and cheerless 
and desolate, like the dark shadow of 
its former brightness and beauty. 

“Little Claude would slip his hand 
into the old man’s and ask, ‘Will the 
good saints ever bring him back to us, 
grandfather, do you think?’ for though 
he was but a child, he still remem- 
bered the glorious young seigneur who 
always smiled upon him, and used to 
stroke his curls or caress his cheek, 
and often sent him home happy with 
a bright new coin in his baby hand. 
To little Claude he had seemed like a 
being from another world. And 
Nicholas would answer, with a sigh: 
‘Ah, ma mie, it is hard knowing what 
to think in these fearful days when 
hearing of the evil things that are done ; 
one might almost believe that the 
good God Himself had forgotten to 
care for His children.’ 

“ ‘What evil things?’ little Claude 

69 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


would ask, being a thoughtful child 
and eager to understand. 

“ ‘The killing of our good noblemen, 
which is being done every day by 
wicked ones.’ 

“ ‘And why do they kill the good 
nobles, grandfather?’ 

“ ‘Ah, that is difficult to say. No 
one knows, not even those who do it.’ 

“ ‘And will they kill him, too?’ 

“‘Heaven forbid!’ cried the old 
man. ‘If God has care of the inno- 
cent, surely he will be spared.’ 

“Claude pondered much over these 
things, so mysterious to him. It was 
very strange, but once on a time, and 
that seemed a long while ago to his 
childish memory, they had been quite 
happy for simple peasant folk. For 
the old marquis of the chateau was 
ever a bountiful seigneur, and as long 
as the broad lands of Belaise had flour- 
ished and yielded their rich harvest of 
70 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


grain and wine, he and his old grand- 
father had never known want. But 
now everything was changed ; there 
was no one at the chateau, and the 
fields and vineyards went to waste; 
Nicholas was growing too old to work, 
Claude was almost too young, and 
they were wretchedly poor. 

“One day, toward the beginning of 
that autumn season — ^^it was in the 
third year of the great Revolution — a 
strange thing came to pass in the little 
village of Belaise; I mean a strange 
thing for a place where for centuries 
past things had moved on in their 
natural course as uninterruptedly as 
the coming and going of the seasons. 
For the first time within the remem- 
brance of the oldest villager, the well 
of Saint Genevieve ran dry. For what 
reason, heaven and the good patron 
saint alone knew; but the poor village 
folk were sorely stricken, believing it 
71 


TALES OP AN OLD CHATEAU 


to be an ill omen of some great ap- 
proaching danger. The peasants in 
those days were ignorant and supersti- 
tious, and for many days none would 
go near the spot, fearing to see some 
evil thing creeping out of its slimy 
depths. There were some who vowed 
they had heard strange moaning sounds 
issuing from it after nightfall, and 
others who even declared they had 
seen a weird, dark object hovering 
stealthily about its base at dusk; and 
people trembled as they listened, and 
took care to make a long circuit in 
order to avoid it on their way to and 
from the village street. Even certain 
old folk who were thought to be wise 
in the art of witching away evil spirits 
dared not to approach the maligned 
well. 

“But little Claude, who was too 
young and too innocent to comprehend 
the fear of such evil, went, as had 


72 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


been his wont, to sit on the broken 
bench, and to gaze longingly at the 
chateau yonder. Something in his 
childish fancy told him that some time 
as he sat there he should see the young 
master he loved come out of the great 
iron gate as he used to do, with the 
bright happy look on his face, and 
that he, Claude, would be the first to 
greet him. 

Nicholas did not always accompany 
him now, for the evenings were grown 
cool, and the chill dampness of the 
woods went ill with his aching bones. 
But he was a wise and pious old man, 
and shared not the superstitions of his 
neighbors; and he forbade not that 
little Claude should continue to seek 
his favorite haunt at evening, to watch 
the wayward flight of the birds and to 
breathe the sweet fragrance of the 
autumn woods, while the gray chateau 
yonder grew darker and more mysteri- 
73 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


ous as it stood out black against the red 
of the setting sun. 

“The neighbors were amazed that 
Nicholas should suffer the child to 
linger thus alone at the now deserted 
place. They had often seen him hang- 
ing over the well’s stony wall and peer- 
ing down into its depths as though 
something witched him and held him 
there; and they shook their heads and 
raised their hands in horror at the haz- 
ardous thing, saying that harm would 
surely come of it for the boy. But 
old Nicholas valued the desires of little 
Claude far more than the opinion of 
his neighbors, and only shrugged his 
shoulders and made answer: ‘The lit- 
tle one loves the spot, and I cannot 
believe that harm will come to him as 
long as the good Saint Genevieve looks 
down upon him from her shrine. I 
have more faith in the good saints than 
in all your evil goblins.’ 

74 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


“The villagers could not well reply 
to the old man’s reproach for their 
own lack of faith in the patroness of 
the well, but they rolled their eyes, 
nevertheless, and went their way, de- 
claring that he was in his dotage and 
not fit to look after the lad, and that 
Claude himself was a curious, unnatural 
child, with being so long in the old 
man’s company, never caring to play 
with other children, but preferring to 
wander about all day in the fields alone. 
It was no great wonder he liked a grew 
some well better than their own cheery 
fireside, whither they had often bidden 
him to roast and crack the fresh nuts. 

“They did not know that there was 
really something which drew little 
Claude to the old well every night at 
dusk; something more than the fair 
landscape and the favorite sight of the 
old chateau ; that now, less than ever, 
would he have missed his visits thither. 


75 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


'‘For one evening — it was but a day 
or two after the drying up of the well — 
little Claude was on his way home 
after gathering his basketful of nuts 
and wild berries. He had stopped a 
moment at the well as was his custom, 
although it was too late to tarry long, 
for the sun had gone down behind the 
mountain and the dusk of evening 
hung over the fields like a veil. In 
the woods it was already night. Yet 
he lingered, mayhap from force of 
habit, or because of some haunting 
desire to look down into the well and 
see if its waters might not have returned 
as mysteriously as they had disap- 
peared. As he bent over its moss- 
grown edge he could see nothing, but 
he fancied he heard a sound far down 
below him that was not like the trick- 
ling of its waters, but more like the 
sighing of one in distress. He was 
not startled, for he was a fearless child ; 

76 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


he only looked more intently and 
strained his ears to hear. Just then a 
moonbeam crept from between the 
branches and fell full upon his head so 
that his face shone as fair and delicate 
as that of the white saint above him. 
He waited and listened a moment, and 
then surely did a whispering voice float 
up to him from below, saying, ‘Claude, 
little Claude, is it thou? Turn thy 
face once more to the light that I may 
better see. Oh, it is! Heaven be 
blessed 1’ 

“The child leaned farther over and 
answered softly, ‘Yes, it is Claude; 
who art thou?’ 

“ ‘Abide a moment and fear not, 
and I will scramble to the top, and 
then thou wilt know me.’ 

“The next moment Claude saw a 
white hand rise nearer and nearer as it 
gripped the rocky ledge of the well’s 
inner wall, and soon its owner had 


77 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


scaled the steep height and reached 
the top. It was a young man with 
close-cropped hair and in peasant’s 
garb, but of fair countenance withal, at 
whom the child stared in wonderment. 

“ ‘My little one, hast thou forgotten 
me, then?’ and he laid his hand gently 
on the curly head. ‘Ah, it is I who 
forget ; surely thou couldst not recog- 
nize me now that hunger and weariness 
and much disquietude have made a 
different creature of me. And thou 
wast scarce more than a babe when I 
left thee.’ 

“But immediately little Claude had 
heard the loved voice, which itself had 
lost nothing of its kindliness, he remem- 
bered, and clasping his hands together, 
fell on his knees. ‘Monsieur le mar- 
quis!’ he cried. 

“ ‘Softly, little one, that is a dan- 
gerous name to be speaking aloud in 
these times. It is because of it that 
78 







“MY LITTLE ONE, 


HAST THOU 


FORGOTTEN ME?” 




SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


I have sought this hiding-place, that I 
am pursued, and that my life is threat- 
ened. None but thee must know that 
I am here ; not one of my good people, 
not even thy grandfather, lest they 
should wish to shelter me and thereby 
bring destruction upon themselves. 
Canst thou keep the secret, little 
Claude, and serve me?’ 

“ ‘I can hold my peace, and gladly 
will I serve Monseigneur in all things.’ 

“ ‘Thou art a noble-hearted lad,’ 
said the young lord, and he took the 
child’s hand in his and held it. ‘Lit- 
tle Claude,’ he said, after a pause, 
‘look at me. Am I truly the master of 
yonder chateau and the lord of the 
broad plains of Belaise, whom thou 
and thy people have been taught to 
honor?’ 

“ ‘I believe that Monseigneur is,’ 
said Claude. 

“ ‘Ah, it is good to hear thee say it, 

8i 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


lad, for my mind has been so distraught 
that there are times when I myself 
have doubted it.’ 

‘Monsieur le marquis is very 
changed, indeed,’ said the child, seeing 
the worn and haggard look in the 
young nobleman’s once beautiful face. 
‘What has made it so?’ 

“ ‘Too many and too cruel things 
for thy young ears to listen to ; but 
chiefly having been forced to dwell in 
underground caverns and unwholesome 
hiding-places where there is little to 
feast upon save toads and snails.’ 

“ ‘Ah,’ cried the child, with quick 
intuition, ‘Monseigneur is hungry.’ 

“ ‘I have not been otherwise for 
more than a year,’ rejoined the mar- 
quis, with a faint smile. 

“ ‘Then, I pray you take these,’ 
and Claude offered up his small provi- 
sion of nuts and berries. ‘I can gather 
more in the woods to-morrow; and if 
82 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


Monseigneur will let me, I will come 
again every day.’ 

“ ‘If thou canst come at nightfall, 
secretly, so that none shall guess thy 
errand, and bring me what food thou 
canst buy in the village with a piece 
of gold that I will give thee, then wilt 
thou indeed be serving me, little 
Claude, and then shall I owe my life to 
thee if I escape thus from my pursuers.’ 

“But little Claude’s keen wit was 
quick to foresee a difficulty which the 
young nobleman had not thought of. 

“ ‘Nay, nay. Monseigneur, ’ said he; 
‘I may not take a piece of gold into 
the village; it would make people 
wonder. For we, grandfather Nicho- 
las and I, have never had so much as a 
silver coin to spend there since you 
left us. And every one knows we are 
too poor to possess gold. I can better 
bring you the food, such as we our- 
selves can get, without the money.’ 

83 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“ ‘Thou art right, little one; the 
sight of gold in thy hands would surely 
rouse suspicion. Thou art a thought- 
ful and prudent lad for thy years. I am 
content to trust myself to thy wisdom. ’ 
“Claude’s childish soul was grieved. 
It seemed a bitter thing to him that 
the young lord should, in his own fair 
province, suffer and pine for lack of 
sustenance. Though but a child, he 
knew too well how cruel that suffering 
could be. He and old Nicholas had 
many and many a day gone hungry 
during the wintry season, when the 
woods were bare and the fields dead, 
and there was not a morsel to be had 
anywhere save with begging, than to do 
which they would rather have died. 
Nevertheless, little Claude promised to 
come to the well every night with such 
bits of food as he could obtain, trust- 
ing to heaven for the means which 
would enable him to fulfill his trust. 

84 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


“Then the young marquis told 
Claude how, being in great peril, he 
had made his way back to his father’s 
chateau, remembering that in his boy- 
hood he had known of this secret hid- 
ing-place in the wall of Saint Gene- 
vieve’s well. It was but a small cave 
far down in its rocky side through 
which the springs had bubbled and 
flowed to fill it for centuries past; so 
long, indeed, had the waters washed 
against the stones that they had hewn 
a goodly hollow, deep and smooth, in 
the rock, large enough for a man to 
abide therein. 

“One night, having found his way 
safely back to the village, he succeeded 
in drawing off the waters of the well 
by a means which he alone knew, and 
there he took refuge from his enemies. 
It was a dark, cheerless place enough, 
a very oubliette for safety, but not more 
cheerless than many a place that had 

85 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


sheltered him in the days of his danger- 
ous wanderings ; far better than a prison 
with cruel keepers to flaunt their coarse 
mockery at his wounded spirit. For 
here were no harsh sounds; only the 
sweet choral of the waking birds at 
dawn ; and no turning of key or drawn 
bolt between him and God’s heaven, 
for the entrance to his dungeon was 
unbarred, and he could now and then 
look up from the great depth and catch 
a glimpse of the blue sky, or climbing 
at dusk to the topmost stone, inhale a 
breath of the pure evening air, and 
dream of sweet freedom ! 

“Little Claude listened to the 
strange recital, wondering at the mys- 
teriousness of it, and questioned the 
young lord upon many things which 
were new to him concerning the cruel 
practices of war, and the necessity for 
innocent ones to remain concealed in 
dark, secret places. But suddenly he 
86 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


was made aware of the lateness of the 
hour by the tones of the village steeple- 
clock, and he was forced to take leave 
of his young master, faithfully promis- 
ing to return on the morrow. He 
hastened on through the dark, solitary 
woods, out upon the moonlit road, 
and had soon reached the door of his 
grandfather’s hut. 

“Fortunately, old Nicholas had 
fallen asleep in his chair, and thus had 
taken no just account of the little boy’s 
long absence, save that it had grown 
quite dark in the room. 

“ ‘Art thou not a little belated, lad?’ 
he asked, rousing himself as the child 
entered, ‘or is it that the days are 
grown shorter and my eyes dimmer?’ 

“ ‘ I stopped a little longer than usual 
at the well, grandfather; the night was 
so peaceful I could not bear to come 
within,’ returned the child. 

“ ‘And didst thou find nothing to 
87 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


fill thy basket?’ the old man asked, 
taking it from him and finding it light. 

‘‘ ‘Only a few beechnuts and wild 
berries; but I left them at the well,’ 
answered Claude. 

“ ‘It will be of no use to go and 
fetch them on the morrow; the birds 
and squirrels will have made a feast of 
them. But it is no matter, thou art 
not often a forgetful lad. The soup- 
pot is on the hearth awaiting thy com- 
ing. Sit down and eat thy meal, child, 
for thou must be hungry and tired 
after thy day’s trudging.’ 

“Claude did as he was bidden, and 
sat beside the old man while they ate 
their supper together. But he could 
not chat in his usual quiet way about 
the happenings of the day or the news 
he had gathered at the village, because 
of the secret that weighed upon his 
heart, and which seemed to make 
every other event of his young life 
88 


SAINT GENEVIEVE'S WELL 


seem trivial in comparison. He found 
it very hard not to speak to his grand- 
father of a thing that so filled his 
thoughts. Until then they had had 
no thought apart from each other. 
And when he stretched himself upon 
his little straw cot that night, his head 
was hot and feverish, and he could not 
sleep for dwelling upon his strange 
meeting with the young marquis. 

‘‘On the following day, ere the peas- 
ants were fairly awake, a troop of men 
in red caps and several officers in uni- 
form entered the village. The few 
who were abroad at that early hour of 
the morning stared in amaze at the 
strange visitors, and then gathered to- 
gether in little groups to whisper of it, 
not knowing whether to be alarmed or 
curious. But presently the news ran 
through the town that the officers of 
the government were come for a pur- 
pose; and it was but a moment ere 
89 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


the whole village was astir, the women 
peering out from behind their lattices, 
while a few of the bolder ones ven- 
tured to the door to inquire what the 
disturbance might be. 

*‘A pack of barefooted urchins had 
joined the gay procession, and were 
following it in great glee. The tall- 
est of the officers turned to one of 
these, and asked him the nearest way 
to the chateau, promising him a be- 
wildering number of sous for his pains. 
But just then one of the men — it was 
Bernard, the village miller — overhear- 
ing, and guessing that their intent had 
somewhat to do with monsieur le mar- 
quis, stepped forward, and doffing his 
cap with a great show of courtesy, 
spoke thus: 

thousand pardons, messieurs 
les magistrats, but there is no one at 
the chateau ; it is as empty as the well 
of Saint Genevieve, and it would be a 


90 






AN OFFICER OF THE GOVERNMENT 




SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


sorry pity for your excellencies to 
weary yourselves with climbing the 
steep way to no purpose.’ 

“The man in uniform leered at Ber- 
nard suspiciously. ‘How dost thou 
know it is empty, citoyen ; art thou its 
keeper?’ he asked. 

“ ‘Nay, your honor; but it is plain 
enough that none could dwell there 
with doors and windows barred and 
locked as they have been since I know 
not when.’ 

“ ‘Welly well, we shall soon find a 
way to pry them open,’ said the officer. 

“Bernard did not seem to compre- 
hend. Perhaps he was only pretend- 
ing to be thickheaded and stupid like 
a country bumpkin. ‘Then, I fear 
your honors will have but a damp and 
musty smell for a welcome, and naught 
but rats and spiders for hosts.’ 

“ ‘We shall be content if we but 
find the kind of rat we are pursuing — 


93 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


the aristocrat — dost thou understand, 
thou twice-told cabbage-head?’ 

“Bernard started, and likewise did 
all the other bystanders who had gath- 
ered round to listen, ‘Of whom does 
your excellency speak? Surely, not 
of our poor monsieur le marquis, for 
he has been lying these three winters 
beneath the sod ; nor yet of the young 
seigneur, who was but a lad when he 
went from here, and has never been 
seen or heard of since!’ 

“ ‘Nevertheless, thy young seigneur 
is a suspect, and his head is wanted of 
the government. Nor is he so far 
away as thou likest to make believe. 
He has been tracked by those who are 
sharper than thou, and we are here to 
discover him.’ 

“ ‘Here!’ cried Bernard, this time in 
genuine surprise; ‘it is not possible!’ 

“ ‘Very possible,’ rejoined the of- 
ficer, still keeping a steady eye upon 
94 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


the miller to make sure that he was not 
feigning. 

“The village folk stared at one an- 
other in alarm ; for by this time every 
one had got wind that there was some 
news of the marquis. In the crowd that 
had gathered on the public square of 
the village were a white-haired old man 
and a little child, hand in hand. The 
child’s face turned as white as linen 
as he hearkened, and his heart beat 
so fast, that he thought the gendarmes 
must surely have heard it had they not 
been so tall and he so little and so far 
from them in the crowd. But happily, 
no one took notice of little Claude, 
or, doing so, made any account of his 
strange pallor and frightened look. 

“The men took up their march again 
onward to the gray chateau, choosing 
the white path that skirts the well of 
Saint Genevieve and leads thence 
through the orchards and gardens. 

95 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


The villagers fell back, but still lingered 
about, marveling at the strange occur- 
rence, and wondering what harm would 
come to the good young lord of Belaise 
because of it. 

“Little Claude had quietly slipped 
away from the crowd, leaving his grand- 
father in converse with one of the 
peasants, and ventured to follow the 
gendarmes at a safe distance. With 
throbbing heart he saw them turn 
round by the tall beech-tree and halt 
at the well, as though to slake their 
thirst after their long march. He saw 
one of them lean over the w^ell and 
look into its depths, and then shake 
his head with an air of being grieved 
and disappointed. He remained talk- 
ing and gesticulating with the other 
officers, what seemed a fearful moment 
to little Claude. He saw another raiise 
his musket and jeeringly make a dash 
at the little shrine of Saint Genevieve 
96 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


above, and break into a loud scoffing 
laugh ; and then the word was given 
to march on. And the little statue 
of the saint remained unharmed, and 
the old well had not revealed the great 
secret of its bosom. 

‘‘That night old Nicholas and Claude 
sat down together to their bowl of 
soup. It was twilight within the hut, 
so that Nicholas, who was growing 
more feeble of sight every day, could 
not see that the child was not tasting 
a mouthful of his own meal, though 
he continued the regular clicking of 
his wooden spoon against the earthen 
vessel in innocent deception. 

“When Nicholas had fallen asleep 
in his chair, as was his custom after 
this, often their only meal through 
the day, the child Claude crept quietly 
out of the hut, bearing a covered bowl 
between his hands. With light, quick 
step he crossed the broad meadow that 
97 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


separated them from the village, meet- 
ing no creature save now and then a 
frightened, scurrying rabbit, and soon 
disappeared in the dusk of the woods 
that led to the well of Saint Genevieve. 

“Now, for more than a month the 
officers of the republic tarried in Be- 
laise, until the white frost covered the 
hillside afar, and the little streams of 
the Saone were turned to ice. They 
ransacked the chateau from cave to 
turret, broke open every one of its 
doors, and pried into every niche, 
nook, and corner of the place; over- 
turned each suspicious stone, searched 
every hut and cottage in all the broad 
valley, sought everywhere, and found 
not; — everywhere, indeed, save by a 
miracle, in the moss-grown hollows of 
the old, old well. 

“After a time the guards began to 
weary of their task, finding all their 
search fruitless. They loitered about 
98 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


the village aimlessly through the day, 
and sought the wine-shops at evening, 
where they chatted amicably enough 
with the peasants, seeking to surprise 
from them some secret knowledge of 
their young master. But the villagers 
were ignorant, and withal such simple 
folk, that even these suspicious and 
crafty men of the government could 
not doubt them. It was well, indeed, 
that no one knew save a little child, 
who could keep the secret faithfully 
because he was thought too young to 
be questioned thereupon. No one 
thought of little Claude, no one guessed 
that the whole weight of that anxious 
burden rested on his young heart. 
Nightly he traveled forth in the dark- 
ness with his own morsel of food con- 
cealed beneath his cape, and returned 
to the hut unmolested, and no one 
saw, save the angels that led and 
guarded him on his merciful errand. 


99 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“But the good village mothers, who 
had known him from his cradle and 
remembered what a bright, healthful 
lad he had always been, began now to 
notice that little Claude was grown 
thin and worn, and that the roses had 
all faded from his cheeks, and his eyes 
had a strange hunted look in them that 
smote their kind heartSc Now and 
then one of them would beckon him 
into her hut, and give him a bowl of 
milk and a piece of black bread, and ask 
if anything was amiss with him. But 
Claude was very discreet, and only 
smiled, and seemed so much better 
and happier after these visits that the 
women declared more than ever that 
the child needed youthful companions; 
and that it was withering to a young 
life to be spent too closely with an old 
one. 

“Time passed slowly on, and winter 
set in sharp and cold. There came a 


lOO 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


day when the guardsmen left the little 
village of Belaise to pursue their search 
after the young marquis in some other 
province. The whole town was out, 
as though it had been a holiday, to see 
the soldiers take their leave. The 
men-at-arms themselves were glad to 
be off, for they had taken nothing, 
they said, but sharp cricks in their 
knees with creeping about in damp, 
uncanny places. But the one soul who 
most rejoiced at the event was little 
Claude, who felt a great load of dis- 
quiet lifted from his breast when he 
witnessed the last flourish of the 
patriots’ red caps ; and the short hours 
of the winter day seemed long to him, 
so eager was he to hie himself to the 
lonely well at dusk and carry the glad 
news to the young seigneur that he 
was free, free to come forth from his 
gloomy prison once more. His heart 
beat violently as he neared the tryst- 


lOI 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


ing-place that night, as it had never 
done even when he had thought of de- 
tection by the guards or dreaded the 
loneliness of the wood. 

“He leaned over the well’s edge, as 
he had done every night, and gave a 
long, low whistle; but there was no 
response. He repeated the call twice 
and thrice, and listened. Then did 
he raise his clear, childish voice, say- 
ing, ‘It is Claude, it is Claude; pray 
answer me.’ But the only response 
that came to him was the echo of his 
own voice against the deep stones. He 
waited a weary time, anxious and won- 
dering, till his limbs began to grow 
cold, and the warm broth he had 
brought was itself congealed. At last 
he set the bowl on a flat stone near 
by, speaking half aloud to himself. 

“ ‘I will leave it,’ he said; Tie will 
surely come back, and thus he will 
know that I have not failed to my 


102 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


promise.’ He turned away with slow 
steps, although his own hunger was 
yearning sorely for the smallest bit of 
food. 

“It seemed to little Claude as he 
walked homeward that night that the 
stars looked brighter and shone down 
more lovingly upon him than they had 
ever done, that the scent of the pine- 
woods he loved was sweeter, that the 
air was purer, and that he seemed to 
be traveling nearer heaven, and yet his 
heart was sad. Was it that he felt, by 
a strange prescience which sometimes 
comes to beautiful souls, that he was 
turning his back upon the old well, 
the dear woods, the starlit night, the 
sweet, mysterious haunt he had loved, 
forever? 

“On the morrow, when old Nicholas 
went to open the door of his hut to 
admit the morning light, he stumbled 
103 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


against something on the threshold. 
He stooped to pick it up, and found 
a leathern pocket, such as travelers 
carry within their belts. As he raised 
it to his eyes to examine it, it proved 
too heavy for his feeble fingers to hold, 
and fell back upon the stone floor with 
a ringing sound. Out of its open gul- 
let there poured such a stream of yel- 
low gold coins as old Nicholas had 
never in all the eighty years of his life 
beheld. He stood staring at them in 
amaze. ‘Claude!’ he called in a hoarse 
voice, ‘what is this? Whence does it 
come ?’ 

“And then, not noticing that the 
child made no response, he sat down 
upon the floor and ran his hands 
through the shining treasure to make 
certain that he was not dreaming. 
‘Gold!’ he repeated to himself; ‘gold, 
at our door!’ 

“Suddenly he caught sight of a bit 

104 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


of paper that was fastened within the 
leathern pocket. It bore these few 
words: ‘To little Claude, my deliverer 
and my friend, adieu!’ 

“The old man rose and went to the 
child’s bedside. He raised the cover- 
let and called again, ‘Claude, Claude, 
awake, the saints have blessed thee!’ 
But the child answered not. His fair 
face was only a shade paler than it had 
been of late; but as the rosy morning 
shed its light upon the rude couch 
where he lay, the old man beheld an- 
other Claude, beautified by a look of 
angelic purity which told him that to 
the joys or sorrows of this world, his 
little Claude would never, never more 
awaken ! Heaven had reserved for 
him a sweeter reward than any earthly 
treasure. 

“Swift as an icy current that blows 
athwart the clouds and changes the 
warm raindrops into hail did the blood 

105 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


freeze back to the heart of old Nicholas 
at sight of the sleeping spirit. He 
looked at the gold upon the floor, and 
then at the golden head upon its pil- 
low; but they were both dead to him. 
What was gold now, what treasure 
could pay the price of that gentle life, 
the one bright thing that had been left 
to comfort his weary old age! He 
rocked himself to and fro in mute 
agony, and prayed the saints to bid 
him come as well. But so mysterious 
is the wisdom of heaven that the fair- 
est flower of life in its youth is taken, 
while the aged are left to brave the 
storm and tempest and to wither away 
leaf by leaf. 

^‘Many have forgotten now the old 
man; but little Claude lives in the 
hearts of those who knew him, and 
the children and grandchildren of 
Belaise have listened for generations 
past to the sad, sweet story. They 
io6 


SAINT GENEVIEVE’S WELL 


have learned, like you, my loves, how 
even a little child may, by the per- 
formance of a noble and kindly deed, 
become a hero in God’s world.” 


107 



Demoiselle Alix 




Demoiselle Alix 

HE was but a wee crea- 
ture when first she set 
foot in the old chateau, 
a dark, wayward, mys- 
terious child, with eyes 
of liquid black like the 
waters of a deep pool in a shady grove, 
her locks as straight and colorless as a 
raven’s wing, and her skin as brown as a 
mountain berry. One had but to look 
upon her to know what a mighty power 
of will glistened from the black depth 
of her eyes, or to feel the unwonted 
strength of her small brown fist, to 
guess what a world of resistance she 
would bring to bear against any who 
might seek to thwart her. So young 


III 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


was she, and yet seeming even younger 
than her years — for she was just thine 
age, my Fifine, though full a half-span 
shorter in stature — so young that one 
would scarcely have divined what seri- 
ous and unchildish thoughts brewed 
in her small head. She seemed to 
know that she was but a little waif, 
and to feel the wretchedness of her lot 
as never another child did. Never 
could I coax her to come into my lap 
and be fondled as were my own little 
ones. She knew not how to receive 
a caress; perhaps because the poor 
little wench had until then been reared 
beyond the pale of gentle influence 
and love. Indeed, I do now recall that 
the first time I took her in my arms to 
give her a kiss of welcome, she did 
turn upon me like a frightened creature 
and bit my lip to the blood. 

“However, that was on the first day 
of our meeting, and she was but a mite 

II2 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


of a thing. Later she came to regard 
me as less of an enemy, and though 
she held every one in suspicion, chose 
rather to be in my company than 
with others, mayhap, from a righteous 
feeling of remorse for what she had 
done, and a wish to show contrition. 

“One night she sat upon a stool be- 
side me while the other children of the 
chateau were at play, and watched 
them with a look as solemn as a very 
owl. ‘Why dost thou not join thy 
cousins in their frolic, little one?’ I 
asked, seeing that she kept so much 
aloof, despite all their coaxing and 
teasing. We had taught our children 
to call her cousin that she might feel 
less like a stranger among them, and 
to give her some claim to our affec- 
tion. But she retorted upon me as 
though I had paid her an injury. 

“ ‘They are no cousins of mine, 
madame, and you know it well. Per- 


113 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


haps, were I of their noble blood and 
had as fair a countenance, would I, 
too, join in their play without fear of 
rebuke.’ 

“ ‘What dost thou know of noble 
blood, Alix, and wherefore shouldst 
thou fear rebuke from our little ones, 
who love thee?’ 

“ ‘Ah, that is it; they do not love 
me as they love one another; they 
only pity me. I detest pity. I have 
been pitied all my life, all my life!’ 

“She spoke the words with as much 
bitterness as though hers had been, 
verily, a long and weary life ; and she 
looked, as she did at times, more like a 
weazened little old woman than a child. 

“ ‘Noble blood, noble blood!’ she 
mused, biting the corners of her ker- 
chief, and gazing into the flames. 
‘Wherefore are some people born with 
good blood in their veins and others 
with bad?’ 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


“I looked at her scarcely knowing 
what to say; she was such a child for 
putting questions to one which could 
not be answered. ‘Come, my dear,’ 
said I, ‘let not thy mind dwell upon 
such unwonted thoughts. Remember 
that the Heavenly Father looks not to 
blood or rank, but loves and cares 
for all His children if their hearts but 
be kind and good.’ 

“A strange, doubtful expression 
came into her eyes as she fixed them 
on me and asked, ‘Do you think He 
cares for me?’ 

“ ‘Most truly, little one, and per- 
haps all the more because He has given 
thee no earthly parents to love and 
cherish thee.’ 

“She pondered a while over this in 
silence, her little brown hands busy 
with tying and untying the four cor- 
ners of her kerchief as though to relieve 
the knotted state of her childish mind. 

“5 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“Now, my pretty Ysabelle, she 
that was your father’s youngest sister, 
a winning, playful child, whom thou 
dost even now resemble, Delphine, 
more than thine own mother, came 
running up to me out of breath with 
mirth, that I might fasten her curls, 
which had gotten loose of their ribbon 
in the game and were falling wanton 
all about her rosy face. She stooped 
and touched the dark cheek of Alix 
gently with her hand, and as she did 
so meseemed a white-and-gold-winged 
butterfly had alighted upon a midnight 
flower, so bright and dainty the one, 
so dark and lowering the other. 

“ ‘Come, cousin sweet,’ pleaded 
she, ‘wilt thou not share our sport? 
We shall make thee mistress of the 
corbillon; it is such a merry game. 
Come !’ 

“But the dark little wench thrust 
back her head as if to escape the touch 

ii6 


/ 



“COME, COUSIN SWEET, WILT THOU NOT SHARE 
OUR SPORT?” 




DEMOISELLE ALIX 


of the white hand, and made reply: 
‘Nay, I like not your games. Pray, 
let me sit here and think.’ 

“Albeit, as my darling flew off with 
tripping feet, very like a bird on the 
wing, Alix followed her with wistful 
look. ‘Then why did He give me to 
wicked people?’ she said, turning upon 
me suddenly, and resuming the subject 
that was occupying her mind. ‘If He 
cares for me, why did He not give me 
a good father, and a gentle lady-mother 
like you, madame?’ 

“ ‘I would ever be a mother to thee, 
my little Alix, if thou v/ouldst but let 
me, ’ said I, stretching my hand to stroke 
her raven locks, for my heart ached at 
the thought of the hunger that would 
not be appeased in her young soul. 
She took no notice of my caress or my 
words, but she brought her face a little 
closer to mine by a sudden turn of her 
small round neck, and said in a whis- 


19 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


per: ‘You knew my father; he was a 
wicked man. He killed my mother 
when I was a babe!’ 

“I tried to stop her with a gesture 
of my hand from saying more. 

“ ‘Nay, nay, I must, I must. Let 
me tell some one. I cannot think of 
it always alone. When I lie awake in 
the night I think of nothing else. 
And my mother — did you know her? 
Was she wicked, too?’ 

“ ‘I knew her well; but she was not 
wicked, my child, far from it. She 
was only young and heedless, and 
went against her father’s wishes.’ 

“ ‘Nanon would never tell me any- 
thing of my mother. I hated Nanon; 
she was such a wretched beast. She 
would ever talk of my father, and say 
what a canaille he was, and how that I 
was like him in looks. I was his pun- 
ishment, she said. Nanon brought 
me up, you know, in that ugly rat- 


120 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


house of hers. I do not know who 
gave me to her, or who paid her for 
taking care of me, though she always 
grumbled that it was not enough to 
feed the goat. She would stop some- 
times right in the midst of stirring the 
soup, and point her spoon at me and 
scream, “You are like him, you are like 
him — the mauvais garnement!'' And 
she would make such fierce eyes at me 
that I would tremble and turn my face 
to the wall. Oh! I was glad, glad 
when they came to take Nanon out of 
the rat-house, stiff and cold and white, 
in a box, and put her in the ground, 
so that she could never frighten me 
with her wicked eyes again.’ 

“The child clapped her hands to- 
gether in a sort of mad delight at the 
thought, and looked into the fire. She 
had forgotten me quite, and seemed to 
be talking to herself, going over her 
own sad little history, as she had done 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


many a time since her release from 
those strange surroundings. 

‘ ‘ I wondered what demon could have 
been in the heart of that nursewoman, 
Nanon, so to blight the mind of an 
innocent child. It was from the ‘rat- 
house’ that she was brought to us, and 
we had borne with her strange ways 
and fancies, trusting that our sweet 
home life would ere long dispel the 
gloom of her weird childhood. I went 
on plying my needle in my gay-colored 
tapestry while the children’s merry 
voices broke out in laughter through 
the great chamber. Alix did not heed 
them any more than she would have 
heeded the chattering of birds had she 
been walking alone with her thoughts 
in the forest. Presently, she came to 
my side again, and said: 

“ ‘Tell me about my mother. Why 
did he kill her? What had she done?’ 

“ ‘I do not think he really killed 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


her — that is, with his own hands,’ said 
I ; ‘but that his cruel treatment caused 
or hastened her death. 

“ ‘Was she common and poor like 
Nanon? or ugly like me?’ 

“ ‘Nay, nay, my little one; she was 
a comely maiden, and thou art not 
unlike her, save that she was fairer of 
skin.’ 

“‘Yes, yes,’ she broke in, ‘Nanon 
always said that my skin was like his^ 
and she would make a terrible grimace 
to show she meant the devil. But go 
on with my mother’s history.’ 

“ ‘She was, moreover, the daughter 
of a worthy gentleman, not noble in 
name, but surely more so in heart than 
many that wear a title; she was the 
pride and joy of his life, and he lived 
for her alone. 

“ ‘One luckless day a stranger hap- 
pened in the village, a wandering 
singer, or minstrel, or some such ad- 
123 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


venturer. His voice was soft as the 
murmuring of quiet waters, like that 
of the children of the South, whence he 
came, and his eyes were deep and 
dark and dangerously beautiful; but 
his face was cruel, notwithstanding, 
and showed that his heart was of mar- 
ble. She learned to know him I know 
not how or where, but with his very 
first glance he had bewitched her, and 
he held her in his spell even as a reptile 
holds a helpless bird with resistless 
fascination. She thought she loved 
him and that he loved her, but alack! 
he knew not the meaning of the word 
love. Albeit, they were married se- 
cretly, against her father’s wishes. 
He thought to profit by the alliance, 
for her father’s estate was a goodly 
one; but he was disappointed of his 
hope. So grieved and maddened was 
the worthy gentleman that he died 
shortly after, leaving all his possessions 


24 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


beyond their reach. Then was hers a 
life of purgatory from that day for- 
ward. In a year thou didst come, my, 
love, to comfort her poor torn heart. 
They were then in some far-off coun- 
try, and it was Nanon who brought 
thee here when thy young mother 
had at last succumbed to her earthly 
sorrows.’ 

“ ‘Then she was good and kind, like 
you, madame ?’ said the child in some 
surprise. 

“ ‘Always gentle and kind, I think.’ 

“ ‘And did she love me as you love 
Ysabelle?’ 

“ ‘Oh, yes! I am very sure of that, 
my dear. Every good mother loves 
her little ones better than aught else 
in God’s world. ’ 

“ ‘It is a great pity he killed her,’ 
sighed little Alix. 

“I almost wondered at myself for 
having been led into relating the piti- 
125 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


ful tale to her young ears. But my 
hope in so doing was to soothe her dis- 
quiet imaginings, and to efface, if pos- 
sible, ^ the memory of Nanon’s evil 
teachings. Moreover, she was such a 
grave little maid that one might sit 
with her in converse as serious as with 
a person older grown. She listened 
with breathless interest, and when I 
had done I noticed that the hard, mis- 
trustful look on her face had given way 
to a softer expression of tender sor- 
row. 

“When we knelt together that night 
in the chapel to offer up our even 
song, I saw that Alix bowed her head 
for the prayer as did the other children, 
a thing she had never done before ; and 
when she raised her eyes to the statue 
of the Blessed Mother over the altar, 
two large tears rolled down her dark 
cheeks, the first I had ever known her 
to shed. 


126 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


“Now, my Ysabelle was among all 
the children of the chateau the one 
most disposed to be friends with our 
strange little guest; and we were then 
a goodly family when all together, 
what with the brothers and sisters, 
and cousins twice and thrice removed ; 
children’s faces were to be met in every 
nook and corner of the castle, even as 
daisies are found amid a summer field. 
She was the youngest by a twelve- 
month, and by an artless use of her 
many pretty witcheries she in time won 
Alix from her sullen ways. They 
were fast friends, despite their being so 
unlike, both in temper and counte- 
nance, that one might have said, see- 
ing them side by side, that the twilight 
walked hand in hand with dawn. 

“In all their games and frolics, Alix 
would ever claim the championship of 
her fair cousin, so that the lads waxed 
jealous of being thus cozened out of 
127 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


their just share of devotion to their lit- 
tle fairy, as they were wont to call her. 
She was ever their favorite — heaven par- 
don a mother’s weakness for speaking of 
it ! — and they could not bear to see the 
dark little wench claiming all her favor. 
They would ofttimes dispute hotly 
upon the matter, saying Alix was but 
a maiden, and must not seek to play 
a lad’s part, but herself be placed under 
the protection of some brave knight. 
Then would Alix turn upon them with 
the fire glinting from her eyes, and say 
fiercely : 

‘I will none of your knights. I 
hate lads. She shall be my lady, 
always ! ’ 

“Now Ysabelle, being of a sweet 
and peaceful nature, would interpose, 
making pretty promises and assurances 
to them all. But Alix and the lads 
were ever on the verge of conflict. 

“One day, I remember, they had a 
128 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


sorry time of it. They were playing, 
as little folk will do, at being lovers, 
and naught would do but they must 
have a wedding; Ysabelle, who was 
aye the one to be bride, must choose 
among her • gallant suitors. There 
chanced to be visiting at the chateau a 
distant cousin, the little soi^ of Mon- 
sieur le Comte de — but soft! I must 
not say the name, else you will have 
guessed my story in a twinkling — a 
young nobleman who had himself con- 
ceived a great fondness for my dar- 
ling. He was of so comely a face and 
courtly a mien that she had perforce 
chosen him as her knight for the occa- 
sion, by way of showing him her pret- 
tiest hospitality. 

“She was decked in her daintiest 
white frock, looking for all the world 
like a roguish fairy, with one of my lace 
kerchiefs fastened o’er her curls for a 
veil, and her nursemaid’s finest cambric 


129 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


apron tied to her waist for a train, and 
a plumed fan to flirt withal. They 
were all in the garden, and their frolic 
was to be in that arbor, still overhung 
with climbing roses. Alix stood aloof, 
leaning against a tree, and viewing their 
merriment with a dark scowl. Ever 
and anon would some of the children 
seek to beguile her with coaxing words 
into the play, but the fire in her eyes 
only grew fiercer and the curl of her 
thin lip more contemptuous. She re- 
mained as cold and silent as the stone 
statues in the chateau park. Through 
all their laughter and prattle she stood, 
darker and gloomier in the compar- 
ison, like a black cloud trying to over- 
shadow a sunlit world. At length did 
the little count taunt her with being an 
ungracious guest at the merry feast. 

‘Such idle mimicry!’ retorted she, 
with scorn; ‘dost thou think I can 
take pleasure in it?’ 

130 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


“ ‘Heigh ho, Dame Wisdom ! But 
how wouldst thou like to take thy 
cousin’s place, and be a bride thyself? 
Ha, ha, thou wouldst make a sorry 
bride, in truth, in white frock and veil, 
with that dark look of thine ! By my 
faith, thou wouldst seem more like an 
angry beetle floundering in a bowl of 
milk!’ And he laughed again at the 
wit of his own heedless jest. The 
other children joined in the laugh, all 
but Ysabelle, who ran to her, putting 
her arms about her soothingly; for the 
dark blood had rushed to the cheek of 
poor Alix, and then she grew suddenly 
white. Her hand went straight to her 
heart, as though she had felt the sting 
of an arrow there. 

“ ‘Thy heart is darker than my face, 
thou cruel lad,’ said she, with quiver- 
ing lip, ‘and I could strike thee for 
thine evil tongue.’ She clinched her 
small fist and ground her teeth at him 
131 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


as though she would have hurt him 
gladly; then she turned and fled from 
them, like a wounded creature, and hid 
herself, crying with panting breath, 
hate them, oh, I hate them!’ 

‘‘My tender Ysabelle was broken- 
hearted, and had thought for none but 
Alix. The little nobleman went down 
upon his knees to her many times and 
sought forgiveness, but all their merry- 
making was ended for that day, as 
when a sudden gale sweeps athwart a 
fair garden and scatters its golden 
leaves far and broad. They never 
again played together in that garden, 
never again as children, though in after 
years they did play at a sweeter game 
there, of which you will hear anon, my 
dears. 

“Alix would not forget her injury 
for many days, and not until the little 
count, after making amende honorable^ 
had at last returned to his father’s 


132 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


chateau, did she emerge from her 
gloomy mood, and seem to breathe 
with freedom. As time passed on, our 
own lads also went away, the younger 
to acquire their learning and some 
knowledge of the great world, while 
the older ones, in turn, went to homes 
of their own, and my little ladies 
were the only ones left us at the 
chateau. 

“They were unceasingly in each 
other’s company; they read, and 
worked at their stitchery together, and 
walked together, sharing each other’s 
pleasures, each having no thoughts 
apart from the other. It was not 
long ere I saw the influence of my dar- 
ling’s gentler nature upon that of the 
strange, imperious child. When there 
were none by to rouse her fretfulness, 
she seemed to grow gentler and more 
docile. She forgot to put on her 
scowling looks, and thus her counte- 
133 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


nance gathered softer lines that made 
her look more comely in our eyes. 
Gradually, too, the burden that had 
rested on her heart since childhood, 
slipped away and lost itself in her 
thoughts like a vague and distant 
memory. For eight years she and my 
darling grew up together side by side 
in sweet companionship. It was the 
very paradise of her life, I think; and 
I could not but grieve to think that 
this sweet time of their childhood must 
soon have end, whene’er I looked 
upon them so happy and care-free 
together. 

“For eight years, my loves, do make 
a world of difference with little folk. 
Ere I could bring myself to think of 
it, the two children had shot into the 
very bloom of maidenhood. They 
were still as unlike as sunlight and 
shadow, for Ysabelle was grown even 
fairer and brighter, as a morning sun- 

134 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


beam grows into the fullness of a noon- 
day ray; while Alix remained dark as 
of old, save that her eyes and features 
had deepened into warmth and soft- 
ness, and there were times when one 
might have thought her bewitching. 
For she wore her father’s look, as 
Nanon had said, but without its cru- 
elty. Moreover, she had grown tall, 
full head and shoulders above my dar- 
ling, and bore herself with a grace that 
passed for beauty with many that 
looked upon her. 

‘‘One day — it was with the return of 
the springtide — we had news that 
Monsieur Sylvestre, their playmate of 
former years, himself by this time 
grown to the stature of a splendid 
cavalier, was about to pay a visit to 
the chateau and his respects to our 
little ladies. Such a state of excite- 
ment as this piece of intelligence threw 
us into we had not known for many a 

135 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


day. We had led a quiet and se- 
cluded life, and rarely had anything 
chanced to disturb its serenity. But 
now my darling ran hither and yon 
in her eagerness to make ready for 
the coming of so welcome a visitor. 
For besides having ever been a 
favorite with us, the young count was 
now in the inaison du roi, and dis- 
ported himself in wondrous uniform, 
with glittering sword-hilt and dazzling 
epaulettes, the which ensigns of mili- 
tary valor my romance-loving Ysabelle 
delighted in. Her face was all aglow 
with expectation, and she could talk of 
nothing else for days ere Count Syl- 
vestre made his appearance. 

‘‘Not so with Alix, who at the first 
mention of his return had felt some- 
thing of her old dread and a strange 
uneasiness seize her heart. She was 
older now, and had learned to quell 
her evil feelings mightily. Therefore 
136 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


none, not even I, guessed the torrent 
of emotions that welled up in her 
troubled soul. 

“It was on a bright June morning 
that my young seigneur came back to 
the old chateau, after eight years of ab- 
sence. My ladies were seated in the 
rose-clad arbor, the same where they 
were wont to play as children, busy 
with some fanciful wreathing of blos- 
soms to make festive the coming of the 
honored guest, when suddenly the 
sound of a galloping steed approach- 
ing, and then halting, made them both 
turn and start. Then did they see 
dismounting a tall cavalier of marvel- 
ous handsome countenance, with locks 
the color of flowing amber when the 
sunlight falls upon it, and eyes fash- 
ioned to play havoc with the peace of 
woman’s heart, and such an air of 
courtliness with him that one might 
have said, verily, he was a doughty 

137 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


knight of the olden time. He came 
striding toward them in great haste, 
with doffed hat and eager, smiling 
countenance; for he had spied them 
in their dainty gowns, brilliant amid 
the dark verdure, at the very first 
moment of his entering, 

“Both damsels remained speechless 
with surprise, hardly knowing him ; 
but as he drew nearer, Ysabelle rose, 
the white blossoms dropping from her 
lap as she walked, and went straight to 
him with outstretched hands. His 
eyes softened and grew deeper as they 
rested on her fair face, upturned to his, 
while a delicate flush of pleasure, o’er- 
spread it, even as the heart of the 
white apple-blossoms is dyed by the 
warmth and love of the springtime sun. 
Only a look, a gentle pressure of the 
hand, and it seemed to the young lord 
as if his heart had been unconsciously 
waiting all these silent years for this 
138 



BUSY WITH SOME FANCIFUL WREATHING OF 
BLOSSOMS 




»l 









DEMOISELLE ALIX 


alone. Softly his head bent low to 
hers, and their lips met. 

“ ‘In truth, this is a sweet welcome, 
cousin mine,’ quoth he, blushing 
mightily. 

“ ‘No sweeter than is thy coming, 
Sylvestre, ’ said she. 

“ ‘To hear thee say it is recompense 
enough for these eight years of absence. 
By my faith, my heart did play me the 
evil trick of doubting my welcome, as I 
rode nearer, lest thou shouldst have for- 
gotten to care for thine old playfellow. ’ 

“ ‘Ah, how couldst thou think it, 
cousin?’ cried Ysabelle. ‘Nay, nay, 
we have spoken of naught but thy 
corning these many days past.’ 

“He drew her hand within his arm, 
and they walked back to the arbor, and 
would have sat down amid the scat- 
tered blossoms to pursue their friendly 
converse had not she noted of a sud- 
den that they were alone. 

141 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“ ‘Alix, Alix!’ she cried, running 
out into the garden, ‘where art thou?’ 

“A faint sound came in answer, 
something softer than the sighing 
zephyrs through the rustling leaves, 
and they both looked up to see Alix 
standing against the great tree, as she 
had stood on that day of her anger, 
tall and colorless as a statue, and the 
old look upon her face, startled and 
wounded, as though she had again 
been smitten. Ysabelle went to her, 
the young count following. 

“ ‘How was it, dear, that thou didst 
turn away from greeting our cousin?’ 
said she, taking her gently by the hand. 

“ ‘Alix,’ spoke Sylvestre, in his 
kindliest tones, ‘wherefore shouldst 
thou have fled at my coming? Art 
thou afraid of me? and wilt thou, too, 
not give me the kiss of welcome?’ 

“The blood rushed from her heart 
and dyed her dark cheek crimson as 


42 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


she looked full into his face for one 
heart-beat, and then did but lean 
slightly forward to grant his boon, for 
she was nigh as tall as he. ‘Well 
done, fair lady,’ cried the nobleman, 
exultant at her graciousness; ‘I take 
this to be not only the kiss of welcome, 
but the kiss of everlasting peace be- 
tween us!” 

“She smiled in assent, and was 
immediately her better self again. It 
was but a whiff of the old passion that 
had blown across her heart, and stirred 
it with forgotten memories, for the 
last, aye, the very last time of her life. 
When she had gazed into his honest 
countenance, all her doubt and dread 
vanished, and she remembered them 
no more. 

“Then did Sylvestre perceive what 
a wondrous change had come upon 
her, how that not only her heart had 
changed and grown gentler, but that 
143 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


her features, too, had put on a soft, 
rich loveliness that well became her 
queenly stature. They three walked 
together hand in hand back to the 
chateau, where the entire household 
was gathered to give the young lord 
greeting; and there was merry-making 
and jollity all that day and for many 
days thereafter. It seemed as if the 
old chateau had put off its mantle of 
gray years to bloom anew with the 
coming of young roses and young 
hearts. The return of Monsieur Syl- 
vestre was like the approach of the 
fairy prince in the old legend ; every- 
thing awakened as by magic, and we 
were all happy and gay together, for 
even older hearts grow blithe in the 
presence of a certain gentle deity. 

‘'Albeit, the springtime rolled on 
into summer. Our three young people 
were never apart in their pleasures, 
walking or riding, reading or convers- 


144 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


ing, their mingled laughter could be 
heard ringing within or beyond the 
chateau walls. It was a marvelous 
rare sight, I thought, to see such unity 
and sweet concord ’twixt three friends, 
three being but an ill-assorted number 
at best in such matters. Yet, I knew 
the time must come when the young 
count, whose heart was getting more 
and more entangled, would be fain to 
choose between my darling and Alix. 
Which would it be? There lay the 
question that daily beset my thoughts. 
We were all so fond of the gallant Syl- 
vestre! I, for one, rejoiced that his 
affections should be stayed by one of 
our maidens rather than won elsewhere 
by some stranger, and though with a 
mother’s hope that his choice would 
be for my Ysabelle, I knew I should 
be well pleased with whatever course 
his own heart prompted. 

“But Monsieur Sylvestre himself 
145 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


seemed in nowise pressed to settle the 
question. Verily, he was like a gar- 
dener demurring twixt two fair flowers; 
for when his eyes rested on Ysabelle, 
her delicate beauty wooed him from all 
other thought, and her gentle voice 
fell on his ear like soothing music. 
But when he looked upon the witching 
Alix, another feeling laid hold of him. 
Her dark gaze stirred the very depths 
of his soul, and his whole being seemed 
flooded with a strange, sweet, fearful 
ecstasy, as though some wondrous spell 
bound him. It was not for the lack of 
steadfastness of heart, mark you, that 
he was thus tossed about by his senti- 
ments, first on the one side, then on 
the other, like a May wind, but rather 
that his youth had withheld much ex- 
perience from him in such matters. 

^‘As the summer days wore on I 
grew more and more perplexed, not 
knowing how the young damsels them- 

146 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


selves regarded this thing. I could 
not but recall a silly adage that had oft 
been dinged into my ears, though well 
did they prove it to be made of naught 
but wanton words, that woman’s love 
for woman could be blown to the 
winds if but a man came between 
them. However that maybe, I could 
not think their love for each other 
was one whit lessened, nor should I 
have guessed by word or look from 
either that aught could happen to cast 
a shadow over it. 

^‘But I knew they were both living 
in a new world, sweet, strange, and 
mysterious, that had suddenly opened 
before them, and that they wist not of 
the future for the brighter vision of 
present happiness that lured them. 

“One day toward the decline of that 
season it chanced that Alix and the 
young count had strayed together into 
the inner garden, Ysabelle having 
H7 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


lingered a moment behind to parley 
with some village children concerning 
the distribution of certain charities. 
The other two had sauntered on till 
they came to a favorite coigne of theirs, 
where a broad ledge jutting out from 
the garden wall and o’erhung with a 
silvery birch afforded a tempting rest- 
ing-place. They had been jesting 
gayly about some pretty foolery or 
other, as was ever their wont, when 
finding herself alone with him, Alix of 
a sudden turned serious and thought- 
ful. 

“ ‘Let us sit awhile, till Ysabelle can 
join us,’ said she; ‘I am weary with 
much walking.’ 

“He took his place beside heron 
the stone bench, and without looking 
at her sat whipping the air about him 
with a light willow branch he held, 
scattering the bright-winged butterflies 
that poised on the hearts of flowers. 

148 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


His own mood was subdued, and he 
felt that same dread, unspeakable 
emotion come rushing upon him like a 
tempest when again he met her dark 
glance. ‘Alix,’ he said, at length, and 
his voice was low and soft so that the 
sound of it thrilled her, ‘the end of 
these happy days draws nigh. I must 
soon return to duty, though my heart 
would fain remain in this Elysium.’ 

“ ‘Is it so long, then, since thou 
didst come?’ 

“ ‘So long that I seem to have for- 
gotten any other life.’ 

“ ‘How soon must thou return?’ she 
asked. 

“ ‘Ere the rising of another moon, 
and yet I cannot bring myself to go 
without first having eased my heart of 
a burden that troubles it sorely.’ 

“Alix looked down at her feet; 
her lips were like white threads, and 
her heart was throbbing wildly. ‘A 


149 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


burden, Sylvestre, ’ repeated she; ‘how 
dost thou mean?’ 

“ ‘Aye, a sweet burden that I would 
carry with me always, were I but freed 
from the wretched doubt that comes 
with it.’ Slowly he had drawn nearer 
and taken her hand gently within his, 
and she could feel his face bending 
close to hers. For one short second 
she was dead to everything save the 
joy of being wrapped in Love’s mystic 
veil. She knew her power, and felt a 
wild yearning to use it. She knew 
that one look from her would bring 
him to utter the word she so longed to 
hear. A sudden rapture overwhelmed 
her, and she could have fallen at his 
feet and wept for ecstasy. But quick 
as a flash, her reason returned, and 
with it her pride, her honor, her loy- 
alty to the other love she had cher- 
ished, the calm, pure love that had 
blessed her life with ineffable peace and 


50 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


changed the current of her wild, tu- 
multuous spirit. It cried out to her 
from the depths of her being like some 
wounded, suffering thing, and she could 
not but hearken to its voice. The 
struggle was but of a moment’s lasting. 

“ ‘Then, let thy mind be no longer 
fretted with doubt,’ said she, in tones 
which the sudden mastery of her feel- 
ings had rendered calm and almost 
cold, ‘for she loves thee, Sylvestre, 
she loves thee with all her heart and 
soul; and I love her even so much. 
Dost thou not understand?’ 

“The young nobleman was dumb 
with amaze. His own emotions were 
lost for the moment in wonder at her 
quick adroitness. She had risen and 
was looking down at him, but not with 
the old look that had witched him and 
thrown his spirit into such vague un- 
rest. That was gone. Her eyes were 
tranquil and passionless, and his own 
151 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


ardor, swiftly as it had come, turned 
to reverence; for in that look he had 
caught a glimpse into the beauty and 
strength of her great soul. 

‘Alix, my heart’s friend,” cried 
he, springing to his feet, ‘thou hast 
thought to lighten the weight of doubt 
that oppressed me by taking the burden 
upon thine own heart!’ 

“‘Hush!’ she said. ‘If for one 
moment I have been weak, forgetting 
my duty, my allegiance to those who 
rescued me, let none, not even thee, 
know of it.’ She pointed to a clump 
of bushes where two roses bloomed 
side by side, one fair as the rosy hues 
of morning, the other of deep, rich 
crimson. ‘ See, ’ she said, bending over 
them, ‘I have watched these bud and 
bloom through the summer days, and 
dreamed that some day thou wouldst 
come and pluck the one, leaving the 
other.’ 


152 



SHE POINTED TO A CLUMP OF BUSHES WHERE TWO 
ROSES BLOOMED SIDE BY SIDE 





DEMOISELLE ALIX 


“ ‘But a moment gone,’ said he, 
‘thinking to see thy face in the darker 
blossom, I should have chosen thus,’ 
and his fingers went out to the red rose. 

“She laid her hand lightly upon 
his arm to stay it. ‘Nay, thou shalt 
not pluck it ; neither shall any other 
human hand. And my dream shall 
nevertheless have come to pass. Do 
thou choose the white blossom and 
wear it in thy heart ; it is pure and fair, 
and will brighten thy whole life, while 
the other would but cast a shadow 
over thy happiness.’ 

“ ‘Dost thou truly mean what thou 
sayest, Alix? Dost thou, of thine own 
free will, bid me think no more of 
thee?’ 

“And she answered, ‘I do.’ But 
there glistened upon her lashes the 
dew of an unshed tear. He took her 
hand and held it. ‘Thou art a noble 
woman,’ said he, with bowed head. ‘I 

155 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


will do thy bidding in all save to forget 
thee. That, Heaven help me, I can 
never do. Thou shalt sit side by side 
with her in my heart, and I will cher- 
ish thee to my life’s end, even as were 
I thy brother.’ 

“A peaceful smile broke upon her 
lips. ‘That pleases me well,’ said she; 
‘for thus hast thou helped me to repay 
a debt of gratitude. And now, let us 
begone, for we have tarried much ; but 
first pluck thou the white rose from its 
stalk that thou mayest give it her. It 
will speak to her of thy love in a most 
sweet language.’ 

“Even as she spoke the bushes 
parted, and Ysabelle stood before 
them, a flower herself among flowers, 
with bright, trustful look, unconscious 
of the words that had passed betwixt 
them ; but when she caught sight of 
her lover standing before her, the 
white blossom in his hand, she went 
156 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


pale as a lily, her head drooped, her 
hair falling about her temples like gold 
tracery upon marble, and she was nigh 
to swooning as he caught her in his 
arms. She, too, had shared the dream 
of the roses! 

“That night, when the two maidens 
were gone to their bedchamber, Ysa- 
belle flung her arms about Alix and 
whispered in her ear, ^Tell me, my 
dearest and best, didst thou see him 
pluck the rose with his own fingers and 
of his own will?’ 

“ ‘Aye, my love, with my very eyes 
did I see him.’ 

“ ‘Ah, what a fair fate is mine! 
But, Alix, art thou satisfied, art thou 
happy because of this?’ 

“She held my darling’s head upon 
her bosom so that her own face was 
hidden, and she answered, ‘Thou 
knowest that I am.’ 


57 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“ ‘Thou hast ever led me to believe 
it would be thus. And yet, sweet 
friend, thou art so beautiful, so good, 
I knew he must surely love thee, too, 
and my mind was not quite at rest 
until now.' 

“‘Fie, fie, ma belle, hath he not 
ever preferred thee? Why, you have 
played at being betrothed since child- 
hood. Dost thou not mind the day 
he twitted me for my grievous look, 
saying I would make but a sorry bride, 
forsooth?’ And she laughed as though 
the thing amused her now. 

“ ‘Ah, Alix, wilt thou never forget 
that child’s jest? Think how he hath 
since grown to admire thee! How 
noble, and most kind!’ 

“ ‘Aye, I know it well. And his 
heart hath grown larger, too. If I 
mistake not, there shall be a place in 
it for me, even though thou art his 
heart of hearts.’ 

158 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


“ ‘I am sure of it, dear Alix, but 
thou deservest even better than this. 
Some day ere the summer of thy youth 
is gone, a brave knight will surely come 
to gather the red rose; and then wilt 
thou know how nearly this earth may 
become a heaven!’ 

^Nay, cousin mine. Some day I 
shall indeed become a bride, but not 
the bride of man. I will put on the 
veil that shall wed me to the church. 
It may not bring more fairness to my 
face, but it will surround my soul with 
a peace for which it longs, and which 
in the world I shall never find.’ 

‘‘Late in the night, when stillness 
had crept over the chateau, and every 
one in it should have been slumber- 
ing, I stole to my ladies’ chamber, 
thinking to have heard a sound as of 
one sobbing proceeding thence. There 
lay my darling asleep in a white moon- 
159 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


beam, her lids quivering with some 
sweet dream of happiness, her lips 
smiling, and her hands clasped upon 
her bosom, while Alix was kneeling at 
the farther casement, her face raised 
toward heaven in prayer. Alone, in 
the solitude of midnight, with only 
the silent stars to witness, she was 
pouring forth the plaint of her wounded 
spirit. The conflict within her had 
been great, but her will was exceed- 
ing strong, and as her tears fell they 
were but the healing balm that washed 
away all its bitterness. 

“My heart yearned to clasp her in 
my arms and soothe her grief, but I 
well knew her proud nature could 
brook no compassion. Her secret was 
a sacred thing, and none should ever 
guess how far I had seen into it. 
From that hour, she was a changed 
creature — a woman grown of a sudden, 
with a woman’s tenderness for others’ 
i6o 


DEMOISELLE ALIX 


sufferings, and the strength of martyrs 
for bearing her own. 

‘^Ah, my loved ones, there is no joy 
that comes to us but leaves a shadow 
upon other lives! Yet, out of that very 
shadow great and strong souls emerge 
to bless the world with their noble 
deeds. Ere the end of that autumn 
my darling and her lover were married 
in the little chapel of the chateau, and 
Alix stood beside them as of yore, 
feeding in her heart upon their happi- 
ness, as one starved gloats upon a food- 
morsel beyond reach. But the smile 
upon her lips was serene, so that Ysa- 
belle guessed not the truth, and the 
young nobleman in time forgot it. On 
the same day she passed out of our 
home behind the convent doors, and 
began the life that made of her a saint. 

‘‘You are too young to know of the 
good she did in this quiet village, when 
plague and famine raged, and the poor 

i6i 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


and sick had learned to look to her as 
their only earthly hope. How her life 
was spent in doing God’s work and 
forgetting self, and how the sweet 
influence of her conquered spirit made 
itself felt to all who knew her. But 
I, who followed her to her life’s end, 
and bore her in my heart even as my 
own child, know it well, and can 
never forget. For I, who tell you 
these things, my loves, am very old.” 


The Chevalier de la Brete 




The Chevalier de la Brete 


^ tell you of the good 



chevalier, dear ones, 
I must hark back 
once more to the 
olden days when your 
grandam was still 
young, being herself 
but some few years 


a wife, and therefore taking much 
part and stock in the love-doings 
of others, when these chanced to 
come in her way. You will say, 
mayhap, that grand’maman hath even 
now a goodly liking for the thing we 
call sentiment, despite her eighty-and- 
one years. Well, let it be! Our life 
is but a circle — in truth, the more we 


i6s 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


travel onward, the nearer we reach to 
its beginning. And what wonder ! In 
youth and in old age the heart hath 
more leisure to ponder over tender 
things; whereas in mid-life the mind, 
freighted with its cares of worldly 
needs, doth absorb all our being. 
Therefore, say I, treasure youth while 
you may, my loves, and make the 
most on it, for Time hath a swift and 
cruel way of filching the precious thing 
from us; and ere we know it, it is 
spent. 

'‘But look you, how grand’ maman 
wanders even at the beginning of her 
narrative. Victor, my lad, do thou 
draw aside the window-curtain, that we 
may behold the golden bar of sunset 
in the west. And thou, sweetheart, 
place thy dainty hand in mine, lest I 
forget thy presence when twilight falls 
and mine eyes see thee no more. For 
thou dost ever behave so seemly when 
166 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


thy grandam discourses that I would 
fain have somewhat to remind me of 
thy nearness. 

“You must know that the good 
chevalier dwelt, at the time, alone in 
the quaint chMet which is just within 
eyeshot of our own chateau — thou 
canst even now, if thy sight be but 
keen enough, my lad, catch glimpses 
of its group of cone-shaped towers 
jutting out from the heath-covered 
slopes yonder ; wherefore it has borne 
these many years the name of Les 
Tourelles. Thou markest how shel- 
tered it lies in the lap of the moun- 
tain, and yet how the sun’s last rays 
gild its roofs, seeming to bless it ! 
Thus hath it been, within my remot- 
est memory, shielded from all harm, 
guarded as by the hand of God from 
the ills that to most of us befell. 
Through all that time of the Terror, 
while other homes round about our 
167 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


province were sacked and plundered 
and crushed, stone by stone, to the 
earth, it remained untouched, its gray 
towers still rose unmolested from amid 
the verdure, challenging war and de- 
struction, and suffered not. The very 
angels of heaven were its sentinels. 

“It was not rich and sumptuous 
enough to draw down upon itself the 
envious wrath of the wicked-doers of 
those days. But to all who entered 
therein it bespoke comfort and gen- 
tleness and peace. For the Chevalier 
de la Brete was its life and light. 
Heaven had destined him from his 
early youth for a life of kindly deeds, 
rather than for the warlike pursuits 
of his generation. When a lad he 
had sustained some grievous injury 
that left him weak of body, though, 
methinks, his soul was the stronger and 
greater for it, seeming to thrive upon 
the wasting of his earthly self. 

1 68 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


“I may now recall among my earli- 
est remembrances how that he would 
walk out in the village on sunny days, 
a slender figure, with youthful face and 
features, and yet leaning upon the arm 
of his gray-haired attendant, Jacques, 
the old life supporting the frailer and 
younger one! It was marvelous, too, 
to see the little ones gather about him 
and seek favors at his hands, like bees 
around a honey-pot. He had ever 
some toothsome dainty in his pockets 
for their tiny teeth to crunch, or some 
pretty jest at his tongue’s end to make 
them laugh. For he was cheery of 
heart despite his great misfortune, and 
his troubles were his own, while the 
sunlight of his nature was for all who 
came within its rays. 

“But time passed on, and the youth- 
ful chevalier grew to manhood. It 
was then that the great troubles were 
upon us, when every nobleman’s cour- 
169 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


age was kindled to action with hearing 
of the bloody deeds that were daily 
enacted. Heaven alone knew what a 
scourge it was to his brave spirit to sit 
with helpless hands and grieving soul, 
while others rode forth to war to stay 
the tide of fury that swept down upon 
us like a torrent. Few there were, 
indeed, living in those reckless days, 
who emerged with hands unstained by 
blood. And yet he was one of those, 
by God’s ordinance. I doubt not his 
nature was the kinder and nobler be- 
cause of the life of peace that was 
forced upon him. For, methinks, 
after all, men’s custom of slaughtering 
one another, even though it be in just 
warfare, is but a sorry valor in the 
sight of heaven. To have laid hand 
on no human creature, at a time when 
murder went rife and one must per- 
force take life to save life, to have 
braved the tempest without shrinking, 
170 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


and come out unscathed, is verily the 
noblest victory of all. 

“Just beyond the gardens of Les 
Tourelles, there rose the palatial seig- 
niory of the lords of Du Marais, an 
ill-fated house of which there is left 
hardly a stone to-day to tell of its dis- 
mal ruin. Some one hath said that 
the highest trees' of the forest stand as 
butts to the storm. It was even so with 
them ; the proudest and most puissant 
among nobles, they were the first to 
be caught up in the maelstrom of the 
Revolution, and suffered most cruelly. 

“However, ere these things came to 
pass, life at the seigniory was one per- 
petual holiday. Many is the time, 
sweetheart, that thy grandam there 
did dance the hours of the night away, 
in satin-slippered feet, at the hands of 
some courtly cavalier, through the 
^stately gavotte or brisk cotillon. Such 
171 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


gayety of young hearts, such guileless 
pleasures! Such recklessness of the- 
thunderbolt that later struck it, scat- 
tering its members hither and yon, and 
drawing the rest into the swift whirl- 
wind 1 

“Monseigneur du Marais had a fair 
daughter, an only child, who was his 
idol, and for whom earth and heaven 
must yield their best. All that parent 
could do for child, he had done for 
her, and she was the flower of his 
fondest hopes. When she was grown 
a woman. Monseigneur dreamed of a 
royal alliance — his ambition and pride 
were boundless — wherefore his home 
became the brilliant rendezvous of the 
fairest nobility of France. Dukes and 
marquises, and even princes of the 
blood were thither bidden, till in fulfill- 
ment of his wish, one of them did soon 
become enthralled with her wondrous 
beauty. 


172 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


“But I being bound to her in friend- 
.ship, and therefore much in her com- 
pany, knew full well that her heart 
was not with her father’s choice. 
Often and often had I seen her with- 
draw from the joyous throng of noble 
visitors to come and sit beside the 
young Chevalier de la Brete, and hold 
converse with him as he reclined in his 
long chair, watching with wistful look 
the flow of life and mirth from which 
he was exiled. For, by a power of 
condescension and magnanimity on the 
part of Monsieur du Marais, he was 
always bidden to share as best he might 
the festivities of the great salon. 
Monseigneur even went so far as to 
remember some act of courtesy received 
by him from a forgotten member of 
the house of La Brete, and lavished in 
consequence a goodly patronage upon 
the young sufferer. But the possibil- 
ity of his fair Madeleine’s forming an 

173 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


attachment for him other than that of 
pity and neighborly good-will was the 
remotest of his imaginings. 

‘‘Therefore I, being ever on the 
alert for romance and a bit of intrigue 
in love matters, did mark the glances 
they exchanged, and how the young 
chevalier’s pale face would suddenly 
glow with a fire that came but from 
the heart whene’er she was near him — 
how his eyes sought her and followed 
her every motion, seeing but her in all 
the gay multitude. How long their 
affection was allowed to grow thus 
unheeded by any save themselves and 
me, I know not. But one day Mon- 
sieur du Marais summoned his 
daughter before him to acquaint her 
with his choice of a spouse for her. 

The Duke de B had begged her 

hand in marriage, and he, her father, 
was the proudest and happiest man in 
the kingdom. 


174 



MADELEINE 



THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


‘‘Then did the maiden awake to the 
voice of a love that had lain slumbering 
in her breast. The thought of giving 
herself to another kindled into life the 
tender compassion she had nurtured 
for the friend of her girlhood. Day 
by day she had looked deeper into the 
beautiful soul of the chevalier and been 
drawn to him by a vague, irresistible 
force. Although no word of love had 
ever passed his lips, his whole being 
was eloquent with it. And now, all 
in an instant, her own heart leaped in 
response. 

“Monseigneur, taking no heed of 
the change that had come over his 
daughter’s countenance, so rapt was 
he in the successful issue of his ambi- 
tious project, discoursed at length 
upon the great advantages of such an 
alliance. But Madeleine heard not. 
For the first time her parent’s will was 
set at variance with her own desires. 


177 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


and she was greatly troubled. She 
was far too well taught to dream of 
resisting. Alack, it would have been 
a sorry task, that of thwarting mon- 
sieur le marquis. She only covered 
her white face with her hands, and fell 
to weeping. 

“ ‘How now, my child,’ cried Mon- 
seigneur, in deep amaze; ‘is not this 
the very pinnacle of thy good for- 
tune!’ 

“ ‘Father, father, spare me!’ sobbed 
the poor damsel. ‘I cannot do this 
thing!’ 

“Monsieur le marquis winced, not 
comprehending her distress. His was 
a cold nature, notwithstanding his 
boundless affection for her, and he saw 
no reason in her pleading. 

“ ‘Madeleine, my daughter,’ he said, 
embracing her, ‘thou art but over- 
wrought at this sudden intelligence. 
It well becomes a woman of thy tender 
178 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


nature to be moved at the thought of 
leaving thine old father. Yet it is but 
the way of life; and for thy happiness, 
child, thou knowest there is naught I 
would not sacrifice. Go now to thy 
chamber, and compose thyself. Thou 
‘wilt think well of what I have done for 
thee when thou art calm.’ 

‘‘Now, when Madeleine came to me 
for very need of woman’s sympathy 
in her trouble, and did hold to a gleam 
of hope glinted from her father’s last 
words that he might relent of his pur- 
pose, my heart was full of pity, for I 
knew full well he would liefer sacrifice 
his happiness and hers too, for the 
matter of that, than wound his own 
pride. I sought to make her under- 
stand this as best I might. 

“ ‘Ah, woe is me!’ she sighed, ‘that 
I must tear my heart asunder betwixt 
two I love so dearly, that to satisfy 
the one I must so grieve the other! 

179 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


For I am sure he loves me. Say, hast 
thou not seen it in his look? Oh, tell 
me thou hast, even as I have?’ 

“ ‘Aye, aye, my dear, that he does, 
most truly ; and none so blind as thy 
father for not discovering it,’ re- 
sponded I. 

“ ‘My heart is bound to him as 
though we had plighted our troth most 
sacredly.’ 

“ ‘But thinkest thou Monsieur de la 
Brete will ever speak his love? He 
holds thy life too dear to fetter it to 
his weak and helpless one.’ 

“ ‘Ah, gladly would I give it him! 
Have I not strength and life enough 
for both? And is it not enough to be 
happy?’ 

“ ‘Verily, one cannot be more than 
happy in this world,’ I made answer. 

“ ‘Then, do thou tell him, dear 
friend, to speak, else he will never 
know the depth and strength of my 
i8o 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


love for him. Ah, if a maiden could 
but speak, what a world of tenderness 
would I not conjure for his hearing!’ 

‘‘Thus spoke the poor bewildered 
child. For it is ever the way with 
young hearts. The more they are 
thwarted, the more ardent they grow. 
I could hold out but scant hope to her 
of monsieur le marquis’s relenting, 
knowing him for a man of unswerving 
resolution. But you may be assured 
that I did my utmost to bring about a 
clearer understanding ’twixt those two 
souls, so devoted to duty and yet so 
sacrificed. I sought much the society 
of the chevalier. On one pretext or 
another I would betake myself to 
Les Tourelles; and by dint of reading 
tender romances aloud for his enter- 
tainment and discoursing thereupon 
between whiles, I succeeded in winning 
a part of his confidence. Then it was 
that I learned to understand the beauty 

i8i 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


and nobility of his nature. He never 
spoke of his own love. What claim 
had he, forsooth, to any feeling from 
his fellows but pity for his misfortune, 
he would argue. He had been left 
alone in the world; he would ever 
remain so, blessing those who had 
flitted across his somber path of life, 
and brightened it with their kindness. 
What if his lot had been to give much 
and receive little! His way to heaven 
would be the speedier by this daily 
earthly penance. And he would 
smile, though all the while his heart 
was bleeding. 

“Many weeks passed, and great 
preparations were going forward at the 
seigniory for the forthcoming nuptials. 
Poor Madeleine waxed paler and sad- 
der with each returning day. The 
young chevalier no longer appeared at 
the festive gatherings of the great 
182 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


chateau, pleading more feebleness, 
though in truth it was the sight of 
Madeleine’s wretchedness that pierced 
his heart. How many anxious days 
and nights he spent through that long 
season, I know not. In this, as he 
had been in all things touching his 
earthly happiness, he was powerless to 
act. He grew frailer of body, and his 
face took on a more ethereal transpar- 
ency that made his very soul seem 
visible. And yet, monsieur le mar- 
quis suspected not. 

‘‘Once I was sitting beside the 
chevalier in the garden underneath the 
tall linden trees that skirt the outer 
limit of the park and were wont to form 
the dividing between the lands of Les 
Tourelles and the seigniory. It was 
not yet dark, and the hour was steeped 
in that mysterious stillness which en- 
velops the earth at the moment ere 
twilight falls. We had dropped our 
183 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


reading and both fallen into reveries of 
our own, when presently a voice broke 
out upon the evening air. It was the 
voice of Monseigneur. 

‘Madeleine, my love, come hither, 
come; I want thee near!’ 

“The tones were dulcet and caress- 
ing. I saw a shade pass over Mon- 
sieur de la Brete’s face and a slight 
tremor shake his frame as the words 
fell upon his ear. His white lids closed 
a moment. Ah, well did I guess his 
thoughts! Were not these the very 
words he would give his life to utter, 
the words that were ever in his breast, 
but must not pass his lips? The next 
instant a slender white figure emerged 
from behind a clump of verdure not 
ten feet from where we sat. It was 
Madeleine. Her eyes turned toward 
us with a sweet, shy look like that of 
a little frightened bird peering from a 
thicket, and she advanced a few steps 

184 



FALLEN INTO A REVERIE 




THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


instead of walking in the direction of 
the chateau. 

‘‘The moment the chevalier caught 
sight of her the very life-blood seemed 
to go from his countenance. He beck- 
oned to Jacques to move him away ; but 
seeing this, she uttered a low cry, and 
fell upon a stone, burying her face in 
her hands. A sudden wave of emotion 
swept over him and impelled him with 
an unknown strength. He rose from 
his chair and went straight to her. 
What sad, sweet words passed between 
those two sorrowing hearts none but 
God shall ever know. It was their 
last meeting upon earth, and their last 
parting. Ere they had done, monsieur 
le marquis appeared upon the scene. 
Now, if ever I saw confusion and fiery 
wrath dart across a human countenance, 
’twas at that moment. It was like a 
stroke of lightning rending the blue 
tent of heaven. He uttered no word 
187 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


or sound, but his thin lips quivered 
as he drew his daughter’s arm within 
his, and together they returned to the 
chateau. 

“That night, however. Monseigneur 
visited Les Tourelles, and so assailed 
the blameless young man for his pre- 
sumption, waxing angrier and more 
cruel as he proceeded, that on the 
morrow, coming to a just sense of his 
violent conduct, he was fain to send a 
request for pardon. For Monsieur du 
Marais was a gentleman, and remem- 
bered it when his hot passion had 
cooled. I never knew what passed 
between them during that interview; 
but I had it of old Jacques that it was 
a fierce encounter; that his young 
master had met fearlessly the onslaught 
which the marquis made upon him, and 
had been more than a match for him 
in words, finally putting him to shame. 
To the last day of his life old Jacques 

i88 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


waxed eloquent upon the matter, and 
vowed that if Monsieur du Marais had 
been other than the sweet young lady’s 
father, he, Jacques, would gladly have 
offered to exchange bullets with him. 
But this I knew full well to my regret, 
that the chevalier suffered much and 
long from this unhappy meeting. Sev- 
eral months he lay very ill, nigh to 
death’s door, and inquiries came each 
day from the chateau. Monseigneur 
being solicitous concerning the mis- 
chief he had brought about. Never- 
theless, the marriage was hastened and 
accomplished ere the good chevalier 
had risen again from his bed. 

*‘Now, some years went by, un- 
eventfully enough in our quiet village, 
while strife and tumult raged furiously 
all round about us. The time was not 
yet come for us to meet face to face 
with the horrors of those days. But 
189 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


it did come, God help US ! How vividly 
I recall the scene, as though it were a 
yesterday’s happening! I may not 
dwell long upon it now. ’Twere but 
sorry entertainment for your young 
ears, my loves, but I would have you 
hearken to the remainder of my story, 
that you may learn in what manner it 
came to pass that so many in this vil- 
lage were saved because of the good 
chevalier, and how ofttimes a gentle 
soul hath more power over evil ones 
than e’en the mightiest of weapons. 

‘‘It was during the golden autumn. 
The fields were yellow with the ripen- 
ing grain, and the vineyards hung 
heavy of their fruit. Never had the 
fair estates of Du Marais been more 
resplendent than on this the eve of 
their destruction. Monsieur le mar- 
quis, together with his daughter and 
her noble spouse, had returned to the 
old seigniory, for the great troubles 


190 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


astir at the capital had driven many of 
our nobility to seek a temporary refuge 
in the provinces until the wave of revo- 
lutionary sentiments should have sub- 
sided. So proud and obdurate were 
many of them that they never lost 
faith in their power to stem the on- 
coming tide of disaster till it had over- 
whelmed them quite. 

“Madeleine was still the beautiful 
creature she had always been. Her 
eyes wore a dreamy sadness that did 
but add a gentler grace to her counte- 
nance. And when I saw her for the 
first time bending o’er a wee, toddling, 
rosy little daughter, a very blossom that 
seemed dropped from the angels’ gar- 
den in Paradise, methought I had 
never beheld aught so touching in 
motherhood. 

“One memorable night during that 
same autumn season our village was 
startled by a fearful cry. ‘Les patri- 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


otes! les patriotes !’ and ‘Liberte!’ rang 
through the streets and set the echoes 
trembling. The tramp of many feet 
and the shouts of frenzied voices filled 
the air. Torches flashed, displaying 
loathsome and angry faces; and peo- 
ple awoke from their peaceful slumber 
to know that for them the day of ter- 
ror was come. The wild multitude 
bore down upon noble dwellings, seized 
and sacked all that fell in their way. 
It was as if a flock of vultures had 
swooped upon our innocent village. 

‘‘The Chevalier de la Brete had been 
sitting at his oriel window, the one 
beneath the gray gable yonder. His 
eyes had found no sleep that night, 
and he was steeped in a strange, fear- 
ful reverie when the cry roused him. 
He leaned out to listen, and immedi- 
ately a horrible sight rose before his 
eyes. The seigniory was surrounded 
by a furious mob, inhuman yells were 


192 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


threatening it, a black cloud of smoke 
curled round its base and enveloped it. 
Now it burst into scarlet flames, rising 
higher and higher, and the noble edi- 
fice towered white and terrified above 
the ghastly spectacle. The south and 
east walls were soon ablaze. One 
casement after another burst open 
emitting a flood of fire, and the van- 
dals had gathered round it to witness 
with fiendish glee the birth of their 
holocaust to freedom. 

‘‘The chevalier looked aghast, but 
only for the hundredth part of a 
second. Quick he leaped from his 
chair — by what miracle he found 
strength heaven alone knows — and 
rushed out of his dwelling. The next 
instant old Jacques was beside him. 

“‘In God’s name, monsieur, whith- 
er?’ he cried, laying hold of his master. 

“ ‘Stay me not; but do thou follow 
me. A woman and a child are at the 


93 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


farthermost window of the north 
wing, and beckoning here for help. 
Dost thou hear?’ 

“His eyes were luminous with a 
sudden rush of life. His every nerve 
quivered, and his lips were set, as he 
made his perilous way to the one unat- 
tacked angle of the chateau. 

“Jacques meanwhile beguiled some 
half-drunken stragglers out of his path 
with promises of copious draughts of 
something better than the scorched 
blood of aristocrats. 

“When the chevalier reached the 
spot, the woman’s face had disap- 
peared from the window, but the 
child’s golden head was resting upon 
the stone mullion, its white lids open- 
ing and drooping by turns between 
sleep and wonder, its cheeks and brow 
tinted a roseate hue with the reflec- 
tion caught from the burning midnight 
sky. The height was steep. There 

194 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


was no stepping-stone or foothold in 
the wall. What then? The chevalier 
cast about him almost in despair. 
Suddenly he caught sight of a sturdy 
vine that sprang from the foot of a 
neighboring tower. It had been grow- 
ing higher and higher, even to the em- 
brasure of the fatal window, thrusting 
its wiry tentacles deeper and deeper 
into stone and wood for centuries. Its 
trunk was like a goodly tree, its 
branches knotted and intertwined like 
a tangled net of iron. He gripped it 
with his slender fingers, and essayed 
its strength. It yielded not. Then, 
with heaven-born power, he swung 
himself aloft, and rose, clutching his 
way among the green foliage as fear- 
lessly and as surely as upon the stout- 
est ladder. In a moment more he had 
reached the casement, and gently lifted 
the child upon his shoulder. Her soft 
arms were wound about his neck; she 


195 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


cooed and gurgled in contentment at 
finding herself in the embrace of a pro- 
tector. Lightly as he had mounted 
he descended with his tender burden, 
and when he touched the earth once 
more, old Jacques was there, waiting 
to bear them both away. 

‘‘The old vine had yearly been 
growing stronger, and the chevalier 
had been wasting day by day, that, 
through the inscrutable ways of Provi- 
dence, this thing might be accom- 
plished. 

“At daybreak the seigniory was in 
ruins, and Monsieur du Marais and his 
family had been captured and made 
prisoners. None but Madeleine knew 
that the little one lay at that hour 
asleep beneath the chevalier’s humbler 
roof. 

“And now the ruffians were satiated 
of their ghoulish revelry for a time, 
196 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


and sought no further mischief to do in 
the name of sweet liberty. Yet we 
were in a very net of fretfulness the 
while, not knowing who might be 
pinioned next. 

“But the child, Madeleine, uncon- 
scious of all the strife, dwelt beside 
the chevalier. Her inquiries and 
perplexities concerning the great 
change that had so suddenly come into 
her young life were answered and 
soothed with words but little short of 
a parent’s tenderness. Between her 
and the good chevalier there sprang, 
like a flower in the night, the sympa- 
thy that comes of a common heart- 
grief. Out of that sympathy there 
grew a still more beauteous flower, the 
love betwixt a little child and a noble 
man, than which there is none purer 
or more sacred. 

“Some days later the vanguards of 
public safety, once more athirst for 
197 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


the blood of innocence with which to 
lave their own guilt, betook them- 
selves to the precincts of Les Tour- 
elles. There were, perhaps, not more 
than a dozen of them, but these were 
among the most rabid. They scaled 
the walls, and would have broken into 
the little chalet, even as a wolf might 
into a sheepfold, if some invisible hand 
had not stayed them. I have already 
told you, my loves, how the very air 
of that kindly dwelling breathed of 
peace and piety. I think that even 
those crazed, misguided wretches must 
have felt something of it in their 
wicked hearts. For ere they had gone 
many steps they halted in their mad 
pursuit, arrested by a sight that would 
have melted a heart of bronze. 

“In the dusk of early evening a little 
group knelt around an altar in a quiet 
chamber — the child, her baby hands 
clasped and her eyes turned heaven- 
198 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


ward ; on one side of her the young 
chevalier, with a look of earnest en- 
treaty on his delicate, saintly coun- 
tenance, and on the other side old 
Jacques, with silvery head bowed in 
prayer. Thus they had gathered at 
the close of each day to beseech the 
grace of heaven for the safety of their 
loved one. They rose as the men en- 
tered the room, and the little one clung 
to the chevalier as she met the grim 
stare of the invaders. 

“ ‘What manner of game have we 
here?’ cried one of the leaders in a 
surly voice; but he laid not hand upon 
any one. He seemed to shrink like a 
snail within its shell as the Chevalier 
de la Brete turned upon him. 

“ ‘But poor game, indeed,’ re- 
sponded he, ‘for such as you, who 
value your prey according to the 
feathers of the victims. We are but 
humble people, with just this roof over 


199 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


our heads, and no power on earth save 
that which God gives us to succor one 
another.’ 

“ ‘Ha, ha, thou art a fine! a fine! 
I know thee by thy white hands and 
thy sleek tongue!’ shouted several 
angry voices. 

“ ‘A fine, if you will have it so,’ 
rejoined the chevalier; ‘we are not 
here to deny you. But think not that 
we shrink from paying the penalty of 
being born with an escutcheon. 
Noblesse oblige. ’ 

“ ‘Art thou not, then, afraid of 
death?’ asked the Jacobin, marveling 
at his serenity. 

“ ‘Wherefore should we fear! Behold 
these three lives. This,’ and he laid 
his hand on the fair head at his side, 
‘hath scarce had time to learn the full 
value of it. And yonder gray head 
hath well-nigh run its course. Mine, 
hanging by so slender a thread, is 


2CX) 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


hardly worth the living. Hast thou 
not thought, man, that to souls free 
from perjury death is but the gateway 
to a brighter and sinless world? It 
comes to us all, soon or late. And 
may thou and thy fellows meet it as 
calmly when your own hour is near. 
We were but this moment commending 
our souls to God, and are prepared. 
Little one,’ he said, bending to her, 
‘thou wilt follow me gladly to Paradise, 
wilt thou not?’ 

“The child nestled to him and cov- 
ered his face with caresses. 

“ ‘Thou art my La Brete; I will go 
with thee everywhere,’ she said, not 
comprehending the meaning of his 
words. 

“His spiritual strength at length 
yielded to his bodily weakness. He 
fell into his chair. The light of the 
half-burnt tapers shed a flickering glow 
upon the frail, reclining figure, with 


201 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


its white, transparent face, and upon 
the rosy, healthful child bending over 
him and still holding him close. There 
fell a deep silence for an instant. 
Then a stifled sob from the heart of old 
Jacques broke it. 

“ ‘To the cart with them!’ cried one 
of the hardened wretches. 

“ ‘Hold thy tongue, thou infernal!’ 
commanded the chief among them. 
This man, who had been a leader in so 
many brutal deeds, felt a cold pressure 
about his heart. For one short second 
a gleam of celestial light penetrated 
his soul, and he was moved to human 
compassion. 

“ ‘Turn your ways from this place,’ 
he said; ‘it is the abode of a saint. 
And the wrath of heaven be upon us 
if but a hair of his head perish!’ 

“And they departed in silence from 
the home of the chevalier. On the 
morrow they turned their backs upon 


202 


THE CHEVALIER DE LA BRETE 


the village, to pursue their evil deeds 
elsewhere, no doubt. But we suffered 
no further harm at their hands. Some 
time after, however, we read the 
names of monsieur le marquis, the 
young husband, and the beautiful 
Madeleine among the proscribed. 

“My loves, the good Chevalier de 
la Brete lived many years after the 
happening of these events; and the 
little Madeleine was to him a daughter, 
paying in full the debt of her mother’s 
love, and blessing his sweet old age. 
Thus he dwelt among us like a guar- 
dian spirit till the light of his earthly 
life was quite spent.” 


203 



Grand’ maman Tells Her Last 




Grand’maman Tells Her 
Last Story 

HAT ! and are you not 
yet weary of my prosing, 
sweethearts? Still an- 
other tale, say you ? 
Then, methinks, surely this must be the 
very last, for grand’maman is waxing 
older, older every hour, and soon her 
dull prating shall cease to hold your 
childish interest. How now, my lad? 
Thou wilt never take less delight in 
them? That is a courtly speech, in 
truth, and one that well becomes thy 
gallant spirit, while it doth also flatter 
thy grandam’s vanity. Ah, well-a-day, 
what fools we be in our old age! Let 
but some charitable ear be close to lis- 



207 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


ten, and we do ramble on till king- 
dom ! 

“Well, then, peace, my loved ones, 
and you shall have a story. There is 
but one that comes to me to-night. 
It is one of which I have dreamed 
much and spoken little. Still you 
shall be the first to hear it in this gen- 
eration. See that the candle is well 
snuffed, Victor; mine eyes seem dim- 
mer than is their wont ; and let us have 
a bit of the crisp autumn air from the 
casement, for the breath of the room 
hangs heavy with the smell of the 
burning logs. 

“In the year 1795, by God’s grace, 
the Terror was over, and the Revo- 
lution had worn itself to a thread 
that in the course of years snapped in 
twain, and then fell into the abyss of 
the past. Our poor France, still 
bleeding from her wounds, rose again 
208 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


to take her place among the nations 
of the world. But there v/as still bit- 
ter strife among those who would be at 
the head of her government, and dark 
deeds were yet enacted in secret, deeds 
which have scarce found their way into 
the pages of history. To the world 
who knew not of these things, all 
seemed peaceful and promising enough 
on the surface. Yet there were many 
that trembled for their safety still, in 
this land where the flag of liberty 
floated aloft and the rights of man 
were paramount. Those who had 
gone into exile during the great 
troubles now sought their desolate 
homes in fear and dread, and the few 
who had been loyal enough to remain 
and had escaped the dangers were now 
hunted down with bitter enmity. 

“Your grandparent, who, you re- 
member, my loves, began his mili- 
tary career as Captain Joli-Coeur, was 


209 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


one of those unfortunates, because he 
had risen to high estate and promi- 
nence in the royal ranks during those 
brief years when swift and cruel war- 
fare brought mere youths to the com- 
mand of our struggling forces. Such 
was the slaughter and devastation 
among our noble officers that at one 
time a general of not more than 
twenty years of age stood at the head 
of our army. 

“Now, by some mysterious protec- 
tion of heaven, he, my valiant captain, 
had been shielded from the ravages of 
the foe. Ever heroic and intrepid, he 
had found safety without seeking it, 
while those about him fell into the very 
jaws of the fury. He had not, like 
many of our nobles, deserted our poor 
France in the hour of her sorest need. 
While there was aught to do for her 
salvation he had not flinched from his 
post of duty, and was the very last of 


210 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


her many victims. O my children, 
my poor reason totters and my faith 
weeps when I think of the recompense 
that was his! What hath led me to 
dwell upon these things to-night? 
And wherefore doth my mind recall 
that portion of my life which marks 
the close of my heart’s history? I 
know not, save that my hours are 
numbered, and ere the great day 
dawns for me, I would implant in your 
young hearts a living memory of the 
brave one whose noble name you bear, 
the most valorous and the most cruelly 
martyred in all the land of France. 

^‘We were met together once more 
round the chateau fireside after the 
years of awful struggle, a happy family 
in truth, despite the anxieties that still 
hovered over us. For when loving 
ones are brought face to face again 
after many trials, the meeting is but 


21 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


the sweeter and the joy more complete. 
And how soon we forget the somber- 
ness of the past in the contentment of 
present communion ! We were, I say, 
breathing a transitory whiff of that 
blessed freedom, when one night our 
peace was blown to the winds by the 
arrival of startling intelligence — a re- 
port that made our blood turn cold, and 
revived in an instant all the terrors of 
the hideous past. Our faithful servant, 
Crispin, had gone that day into the 
village, and there learned the rumor. 
A secret quest was being made by 
some deputies of the government for 
one Marquis de Seyssel, lately a high 
officer in the alien ranks, and suspected 
of being concerned in a conspiracy 
among the reactionaries. He was known 
for a fearless upholder of his princi- 
ples, and a free speaker, and counted 
dangerous to the safety of the new- 
established government. The day of 


212 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


open attack and lawless murder was 
gone, but the secret service of the 
Directory was even more certain and 
deadly, for its clutches fell upon its 
victims when these least expected it. 

However, the news that the pursuers 
were nearing our vicinity had flown to 
us on the very pinions of lightning. 
For the young lord of Seyssel was the 
beloved of all his people, and there was 
naught they would not have done for 
his well-being. We were at meat, when, 
breathless and panting, old Crispin re- 
turned with the sickening news. Thy 
grandfather, when he had heard, 
snatched his wine goblet and drained 
it to the bottom. 

‘My Godl’ he groaned; ‘this is 
the cruelest blow of all. To be un- 
justly suspected of crime, to die in 
secret like a dog, when I might have 
fallen gloriously upon the battlefield! 
Ah, truly, it is the bitterest drop.’ 

213 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 

“He pushed his chair from the 
table, and buried his face in his hands. 
Great sobs shook his stalwart frame. 
Thy grandam, bewildered and heart- 
rent creature that she was, rose and 
went to him with her two little ones, 
and kneeling, besought him to be com- 
forted. For she felt, even as keenly, 
the wound of his broken spirit. 

“ ‘My beloved, my husband!’ she 
cried; ‘be not overcome now at this 
moment of peril. But save thyself 
while there is yet time. Only this 
once save thyself, and then shall we 
hie us to a less accursed land. See, 
thy children and thy wife implore 
theel’ 

“ ‘Love,’ he said, gazing with yearn- 
ing pity at the three white faces before 
him, ‘wherefore shouldst thou be de- 
ceived? There is no escape from this. 
Whithersoever I may flee, they will 
seek me out. There is naught so cer- 

214 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


tain and so relentless as the vengeance 
of the Five. I will remain here with 
thee to the very end, and face them as 
I have faced the rest.” 

“ ‘Nay, nay, thou shalt not!’ she 
cried. ‘How may I see thee led from 
me a captive, perhaps never to return? 
Ah, pity my wretchedness, and seek a 
refuge!’ 

“He bent down to her and wrapped 
her in his embrace. ‘My heart’s life,’ 
he cried, ‘that I should be the one to 
bring grief to thee!’ 

“ ‘Ah, talk not of my grief, but of 
thy safety, and of the joy that shall 
be ours if we can but flee from this 
unhallowed spot!’ 

“ ‘Alas! escape is well-nigh impos- 
sible. They have set a wily trap 
around me; and, suspected, I am as 
good as in their clutches.’ 

“ ‘Then is there not a hiding-place 
where thou canst go, no secret coigne 
215 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


in all this vast chateau where thou 
canst have a refuge?’ 

“ ^ We have had no need of dungeons 
wherein to practice cruelty in the 
house of Seyssel. I know of none. 
But if there were, my pursuers would 
but have the satisfaction of discovering 
them. There is no spot so hidden 
that their keen hatred will fail to find 
it.’ 

“It seemed as if the very darkest 
hour of our despair had come. But 
old Crispin, who had remained near us 
in the dining-hall and taken good ac- 
count of all his master’s words, now 
came forward and spoke. His face 
was all aglow with the sudden light of 
a thought that had flashed across his 
brain. 

“ ‘Stay, Monseigneur!’ he cried, 
‘there is yet a hiding-place within our 
own walls. I have but this moment 
bethought me of it — one that will 
216 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


scarcely be dreamed of by messieurs 
les magistrats.’ 

“ 'My good Crispin/ cried thy 
grandam, laying hold of his arm, ‘in 
heaven’s name, where?’ 

“The honest servant, seeing her ter- 
ror-stricken face and the look of hope- 
less despair upon thy grandfather’s 
countenance, was fain to wipe a tear 
from his eyes ere he made answer. 

“ ‘Monseigneur,’ he said, ‘it comes 
to my remembrance that once in my 
childhood the great stone which forms 
the footing of the portico was removed 
from its base. For what purpose I 
cannot now recall, it was so many, 
many years ago, and I was but a little 
lad. But I remember full well that 
being curious and meddlesome, after 
the manner of urchins, I did scramble 
to the topmost step of the stone flight 
with hands and feet, and peer over the 
edge to see what I might find in the 
217 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


dark cavity below. I saw a large 
square chamber, walled round on all 
sides by thick cemented stones, and if 
I mistake not, no mode of entrance or 
of exit save with lifting the huge slab 
that covers it from above. If Mon- 
seigneur could but abide there during 
the while the gendarmes are pursuing 
their search through the chateau, I 
will defy the very craftiest among 
them to discover him!’ 

‘My honest Crispin,’ returned the 
young marquis, ‘it were a giant’s task 
to raise the stone and place it again 
ere the enemy overtake us! Didst 
thou not say they were even now on 
their way to the town?’ 

“ ^Aye, aye, I know it. But we are 
many in your service. Monseigneur, and 
if we but haste, the thing can yet be 
accomplished. Only say the word, 
and your men will turn to giants; the 


2lS 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


thought of ypur peril will add strength 
to their limbs.’ 

“The young marquis remained a 
moment in silence. Then turning to 
his wife, said, ‘Hast thou heard him, 
Hortense? Wouldst thou have me do 
his bidding?’ 

“She shuddered as she listened. 
‘Ah, my loved one,’ she sighed, ‘it is 
as if thou wert about to descend into 
thy living tomb !’ 

“ ‘Truly, but one from which I shall 
soon be released by my good Crispin 
here, if all goes well.’ 

“ ‘Then let it be done, if it can save 
thee!’ cried she, torn betwixt dread 
and hope; ‘but oh, how this hour doth 
weigh upon my soul ! Let it come and 
pass again, that we may remember it 
no morel’ 

“Crispin waited no further com- 
mand. He hastened away to gather 


219 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


his men about him ; some were quickly 
dispatched to guard the roads leading 
to the chateau, lest they should be sur- 
prised ere the dangerous task was done, 
while twenty of the stoutest fellows 
were set to work upon the monstrous 
stone. Under the flare of yellow torch- 
lights, with iron pick and bar, they plied 
their strength to lift it from its rest of 
nearly a century. Through the silent 
hours of the night they toiled, with 
heaving breath and straining muscles, 
until their labor of love was accom- 
plished. And when the morning light 
broke over the valley no trace of the 
night’s deed was visible. All was as 
it had been, save that the Marquis de 
Seyssel had disappeared from the sur- 
face of the earth. 

“The day wore on wretchedly. Yet 
their task had been finished none too 
swiftly. Ere the morning was spent 
the gendarmes had reached the town 


220 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


and were making their way to Seyssel. 
Crispin was the one to meet them at 
the chateau gates. His look was calm 
and imperturbable. He bade them 
enter with all speed to make known 
their errand. They were a goodly 
company of men, headed by two 
officers. One of these stared at Cris- 
pin mightily as they came within, but 
the good servant was so engrossed in 
the carrying out of his loyal duty that 
he recognized him not. 

‘‘They were seeking the person of 
Monsieur de Seyssel ? Ah, well-a-day ! 
he would be glad indeed to help them 
in their search. He would like noth- 
ing so well himself as a sight of his 
good master! But alas! where were 
the victims of these cruel wars to be 
found to-day if not beneath the soil. 
So many evil deeds had been done 
there was little chance of his having 
escaped ! 


221 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


“Crispin’s honest face, with its 
crown of venerable gray hair, had 
never been more eloquent with truth 
and candor than it was at that mo- 
ment. The tall magistrate, who had 
stared at him upon entering, listened 
with keen interest to what he said. 

“ ‘Nevertheless,’ quoth he, when 
Crispin had done with his talk, ‘we 
are here in the name of the law to exe- 
cute a duty. Do thou conduct us to 
every part of this castle, that we may 
satisfy ourselves thy master is not 
here. If thou dost serve us faithfully 
in this thing and prove thy words to be 
true, I will reward thee with much 
gold.’ 

“Crispin took up a wax taper from 
a table, wherewith to illumine the dark 
and unfrequented recesses of the 
chateau, and began to lead the search 
with a calm and steady courage that 
is born only of certitude. Not a 


222 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


muscle of his face betrayed what secret 
misgivings he might still entertain. 
Not a word did he speak but was well 
weighed in his mind before utterance, 
nor failed to carry conviction with it. 

“I cannot tell you of the fears that 
surged in our own breasts, my loves, 
as we hearkened to the sound of those 
ominous footsteps pacing through our 
corridors, those muffled voices as they 
came to us through the deep stone 
walls. It seemed as if that quest, 
which in truth consumed but a few 
hours, had lasted a whole eternity. 
They visited every hall and chamber, 
every secret spot. They filed up 
the slender flights of stairs that lead 
to the topmost turrets, and down 
again to the remotest caves. For one 
interminable second they stood with 
only the depth of a stone wall betwixt 
them and their prisoner, and Crispin’s 
stout heart grew faint within him ; 

223 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


to his overwrought brain it seemed for 
a moment as if those ancient and 
dumb rocks must surely speak of their 
secret, or crumble away beneath the 
scrutinizing gaze of the dread magis- 
trate and reveal what lay hidden be- 
hind them. 

“We were in breathless suspense 
till the terrible siege was over, for they 
had done their duty well and left 
neither niche nor corner unscoured. At 
length they began to retrace their steps 
slowly to the entry, some with disap- 
pointed look, and others with evident 
relief, for there were many at that time 
in the hard service of the government 
who cherished still the principles of 
sweet liberty, and liked not too well 
their trade of hunting down and perse- 
cuting the innocent. The tall deputy 
who had spoken with Crispin was 
doubtless one of these, for the somber 
look that had gathered on his dark 


224 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


countenance was something dispelled 
as they proceeded in their search and 
found no trace of the nobleman. He 
waxed almost cheery as he placed a 
purse in the old servant's hand with a 
jest that while they were none the bet- 
ter for their quest, he, Crispin, had 
earned the price of new sabots for his 
pains. 

“And now the gendarmes stood in 
line atop the portico, awaiting the 
word of command to march onward. 
Our hearts had already gone up to 
heaven in thankfulness for this deliv- 
erance, when, in an evil moment, one 
of the men dropped the butt end of his 
heavy bayonet on the fatal stone. It 
sent forth a deep and hollow sound 
that went reverberating below for some 
seconds, like the moan of some evil 
demon in lonely caverns. From an 
upper casement, whither we had gone 
to witness their departure, I saw the 


225 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


two officers exchange a quick glance, 
and my heart turned sick with terror. 
I saw the taller one turn pale, and poor 
Crispin’s lips grow ashen as he clutched 
at one of the stone pillars to keep from 
swooning. They saw it too; in the 
flash of a thought the secret was theirs, 
and your grandsire’s doom was sealed. 

‘^Before our very eyes, O my chil- 
dren, the work of that fatal night was 
undone! Through all the remaining 
hours of that wretched day the men of 
the government toiled in silence, until 
they had laid bare the dark retreat and 
brought forth the marquis from its 
depths. Then, as he stood once more 
in the light of day, he looked and be- 
held himself face to face with the com- 
rade of his boyhood days, the Vicomte 
de Beaulieu ! Great beads of moisture 
stood out on the young officer’s tem- 
ples. His heart stood still, and the 
words he sought to utter choked him. 

226 


GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


He laid a hand heavily upon the mar- 
quis’s shoulder. ‘Alas,’ he said, ‘that 
I should have once saved thy life for 
this!’ And he turned his face away 
that none might see the emotion that 
overwhelmed him. Truly, it was to 
him the bitterest hour of his duty. 

“ ‘Friend,’ returned the nobleman, 
calmly, ‘grieve not that I should be 
thy captive. I count myself for- 
tunate to have fallen to no worse 
enemy. ’ 

“ ‘Speak not of me as thine enemy. 
I would give my life to save thee, and 
yet I cannot. I must make thee a 
prisoner. Pray God these hideous 
days may soon have end, and we may 
live to sit side by side in friendship 
once morel’ said the vicomte. But he 
spoke thus only to soften with a gleam 
of hope the cruel task that was fallen 
to him. 

“ ‘So let it be; I am ready,’ re- 
227 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


joined the marquis, knowing in his 
heart that there was no hope. 

“Thus, in the last flush of the red 
sunset, they bore him away, my loves, 
bore him away from his home, his wife, 
his children, never more to return. 
From this very room, where he tar- 
ried a moment for a last farewell, I 
watched him depart, a prisoner, at the 
hands of one to whom his soul had 
been knit in the holy bonds of friend- 
ship. Mine eyes sought him out 
among the crowd, and held him till the 
beloved form was lost in the dust-cloud 
that lifted from the road and soon en- 
veloped them. 

“Then I knew the days and hours 
no more, and fell for a brief season 
into a state of forgetfulness which is 
the balm sent of heaven to prepare the 
heart for a life-long sorrow. 

“Alack, alack, my dears, wherefore 
228 



A LAST FAREWELL 














GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


should I be speaking of mine own 
griefs, when there were so many, so 
many others, who suffered in those 
days, and whose heartaches shall never 
be known! Ah, what bitter anguish, 
what hearts rent in twain, what ruth- 
less disregard of all ties most sacred 
before God and man, to achieve so 
dear-bought a liberty! 

“Perhaps it were well to let our 
griefs lie buried, and dwell only on the 
brighter and more joyous portions of 
our life. Yet, methinks there is 
naught else like a tender sorrow to 
soften the heart to compassion and win 
it from thoughts of self to that sweet 
fellowship of man which is called char- 
ity. It is the discipline of the human 
heart, and doth chasten it, causing it 
to bring forth nobler fruit, even as the 
rain-drops from heaven fall upon the 
earth’s bosom to enrich it. 


231 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 

“The years sped slowly on, at first 
illumined wth a vague, unspoken hope 
which in the young springs ever anew 
and blooms side by side with despair. 
The seasons rolled round one by one, 
and our land smiled with each return 
of spring, and wept at the approach of 
winter; and never a breath was wafted 
to me of my beloved, nor did the world 
ever know the fate of the brave Mar- 
quis de Seyssel. 

“But I, in my lonely chamber, did 
see a vision one night in the still hours 
of darkness, a vision that hath walked 
beside me like a shadow, and hath not 
departed from me, either waking or 
sleeping. It is before me now, even as 
I speak, O my loved ones! I see it now, 
the far-off ship sailing across distant 
waters. The night is dark, for even 
the stars have turned away from wit- 
nessing the black deed that is to be. 
A figure rises before me, erect and tall. 


232 





AND GRAND ’mAMAN WAS SLEEPING 






GRAND’MAMAN’S LAST STORY 


against a mast at the stern, and it is 
the figure of one I have loved. The 
eyes are looking straight into my heart, 
and the lips with a smile are luring 
me to follow. Hark! a fearful sound 
goes whirling through the night. The 
flash of a dozen rifles rends the black 
heavens. There is a rush of breaking 
waters; the sea has opened and closed; 
one more victim has perished ; one 
more soul ascends heavenward ; and 
the transport ship sails on!” 

The two listening children had 
clasped each other’s hands, and tears 
w'ere falling from their eyes as the last 
words died, almost in a whisper, from 
grand’maman’s lips. A sudden hush 
had fallen upon the little group. The 
room had grown quite dark, for the 
candle was spent. The white head 
was fallen softly back upon its cushion, 
the faded lips were parted in a smile of 
235 


TALES OF AN OLD CHATEAU 


wonder, and grand’maman was sleep- 
ing. For her, the long separation was 
ended, and the dawn of eternal peace 
was breaking. Beautifully she had 
lived her eventful life, and serenely she 
passed into those realms beyond, where 
time has no more reckoning and all 
earthly woes are forgotten. 



Miss Marguerite Bouvet’s 
Books. 


Sweet William. Illustrated by Helen and Margaret Arm- 
strong. Fourteenth thousand. Small 4to, $1.25. 

Little Marjorie’s Love Story. Illustrated by Helen M. 
Armstrong. Seventh thousand. Small 4to, $1.00. 

Prince Tip Top. A Fairy Tale. Illustrated by Helen M. 
Armstrong. Fifth Thousand. Small 4to, $1.00. 

A Child of Tuscany. Illustrated by Will Phillip Hooper, 
Small 4to, 207 pages, $1.25. 

Pierrette. Illustrated by Will Phillip Hooper. Small 4to, 
203 pages, Si. 00. 

A Little House in Pimlico. Illustrated by Helen Mait- 
land Armstrong. Small 4to, $1.25. 

My Lady : A Story of Long Ago. Illustrated by Helen 
Maitland Armstrong. i6nio, 284 pages, $1.25. 

Tales of an Old Chateau. Illustrated by Helen Maitland 
Armstrong. i6mo, 236 pages, $1.25. 


For sale by booksellers generally, or will be sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers. 


A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

CHICAGO. 











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